Faith
by darkangel9872005
Summary: Strange things have always happened around Freak. But none more so than this. He wakes upon the kitchen floor, tiny hands in blood and egg. His "aunt" lay before him, mouth open in a silent scream as her face smokes. Blood pools around her. Fear grips Freak's heart. For she has no eyes, only empty chasms where they once were. The storm rages. A whisper, "I am with you my son."
1. Chapter 1

**_ A/N Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter nor do I own Supernatural. I am only a die hard fan! :)_**

**_Please Review! I read all of them, thank you to everyone who has already:) Please fan and follow!_**

**_Enochian thought_**

**_"_****_Enochian speech"_**

_Thought_

**Beast tongue**

**Dean Winchester is born January 24 1979**

**Harry Potter is born July 31st 1980**

**Sam Winchester is born May 2nd 1983**

**November 2nd 1983 Mary Winchester dies **

**Faith**

**Prologue**

**Privet Drive Morning of October 31st 1988**

**_Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death_**

**_I will fear no evil…_**

Tiny dirt encrusted hands held a chipped and rusted crucifix in the darkness. Tracing the lines of the cross in reverence. A small bloodied body, malnourished in its form, shrouded in oversized blood stained garments lay curled upon a ratty cot. The decaying bed taking up the three foot length of the floor. Spiders scurried across a peculiar scar on the young male child's forehead, making webs in the corners of the small room. A lightning bolt. Hair that seemed to absorb the shadows fell over intense emerald eyes that were a light in longing and pain. Cradling the small piece of metal, the child pulled it closer to his cherubic face.

**_For thou art with me_**

Through the haze of pain, the child lifted the cross up to sparkle in the light that shone through the grate of the cupboard door. A smile tilting his mouth as the metal glowed. The child then traced his tiny finger first horizontally across the crucifix, then vertically. From the left to right, then top to bottom with the pad of his thumb.

**_Thy rod and thy staff_**

A wave of warmth engulfed the child as the cross took on a brilliant shine. The haze of pain the child felt clearing away as wounds faded. Awe and euphoria filled the young boy.

**_They comfort me_**

Urgent Soft whispers filled the child's head. The sounds rising and falling as one voice becomes many. Unintelligible. The knowledge to understand just out of reach. The voices all consuming, but the pain, absent in the grip of the cross.

**_They give me strength_**

The boy grips the crucifix tighter and the whispers fade to a low hum. The sounds of the occupants of the house waking overriding them. Descending steps sound above the child, sending a bolt of fear into his heart. Then banging on the door shake the child from his musings. A voice pierces the quiet.

"Freak! Up! Up you get!"

The voice spoken through the grate is the boy's female master. Freak grips the cross and then buries it beneath the folds of the cot. His one treasure. He would not let his tormentors take it from him. They gave him so little already. The door opens and a hand shoots through the opening to drag him out into the foyer. For a moment the harsh light of the morning blinds him. Then his eyes adjust and he gazes into the face that his tormentors say is his aunt. But Freak knows that such is a lie.

For to be his aunt there would have to be some familial resemblance, but there is none to be found. Freak's "aunt" resembles that of a horse with her overly long neck that she would say is perfect for spying on neighbors. There is no resemblance in any of the residents of Privet Drive except for the father and son. Vernon and Dudley Dursley both resemble beached whales, with their double chins and beady eyes. The two adults were obsessed with being normal and Freak was anything but. Strange things always happened around Freak. Freak heard things, things he wasn't supposed to hear.

Whispers that rose and fell to silent music, buzzing in his head. Sometimes he understood, but most times the meanings escaped him. Sometimes when Freak was angry a storm would rage and the house would shake. These things and more made the passive dislike his "relatives" felt for him evolve into a burning hate. When something strange happened Freak would be blamed. Then he would be punished.

Those days he would be locked in his cupboard for days without food, blood drying with his shirt plastered to his back. When the hunger and pain got too much, Freak would hold his only treasure, squeeze it tight and the pain would fade. A piercing sting erupted across Freaks face as his head was whipped to the left in the force of the blow.

"Stop day dreaming Freak!"

His tormentor dropped him on the ground and roughly grabbed his raven locks pulling him toward the kitchen by the head. Freak struggling, gripping his head in attempt to relieve pain, shrieking in agony. His "aunt" ignored his plight as she continued to her destination.

"You are to make us a full English breakfast! Don't you dare burn the bacon this time or you will be locked in your cupboard for a week. Then you are to tend the garden, only then can you have some toast and cheese. If you finish before noon you may have ONE glass of water. Don't let me catch you drinking from the hose again or you'll be punished!"

Petunia Dursley through her nephew to the kitchen floor, where he gave a pitiful cry.

"Get started Freak! My Dudikins is hungry!"

Freak scrambled to obey as he cradled his wrist where he fell on it. Anger filled him. She was supposed to be his aunt. The adult. She was supposed to be the one who made breakfast and tend to the garden. What had he ever done to be treated such. Surely if they had raised him like their precious Dudikins then he would be what they wanted. Normal. His "aunt" goes to get out the ingredients for breakfast since his arms are too weak to carry them to the counter. She rants all the while about how much of a good for nothing he is. Thunder crashed. His mind goes back

To his treasure underneath his cot.

Petunia shrieked, scrambling away from her nephew, eggs crashing to the floor in her haste to get away. His face upturned in her direction. Eyes blazing a brilliant white. Vernon's races towards where he hears his wife's distress, his son following. They enter the kitchen as they are consumed in white. The cross beneath the cot pulsed and failing wards that had been decaying for eight years shattered. And the family of Privet Drive knew no more.

Whispers rose and fell once more in Freak's fading mind. Only one, though, understood following his thoughts into unconsciousness.

**_Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death_**

**_I will fear no evil…_**

**_For thou art with me…_**

**_~Psalm 23:4~_**

**_"_****_I am with you, my son."_**

And the storm raged.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter nor do I own Supernatural. I am just a die hard fan!

Please Review! I read all of them, thank you to everyone who has already:) Please fan and follow!

**_Enochian thought_**

**_"_****_Enochian speech"_**

_Thought_

**Beast tongue**

**Dean Winchester is born January 24 1979**

**Harry Potter is born July 31st 1980**

**Sam Winchester is born May 2nd 1983**

**November 2nd 1983 Mary Winchester dies **

**Chapter 1**

_**For the Lamb at the center of the throne will be their shepherd; 'he will lead them to springs of living water.' 'And God will wipe away every tear from their eyes.' **_

_**~Revelation 7:17~**_

**Hogwarts October 31****st**** 1988**

**Headmaster's office **

The office was silent save for the occasional snore from slumbering portraits. Arches rose and fell around a circular platform, shelves lined the walls filled to the brim with books worn with age. Trinkets whizzed and whirled in glass cabinets. A desk sat upon the platform, dark wood covered in paperwork stacked high, held together by an invisible force. A perch inlaid with gold stood next to the desk. Upon which a majestic bird slept. Its beak folded beneath its wing. Soft musical trills sounded through the room as the creature slept. Soft fiery plumage waving with every movement. Long golden red feathers shifted and shook as the bird woke with a curious trill.

A head cocked, large eyes blinked as the legend gazed in fascination at the trinkets in the cabinets. The being ruffled its feathers as a buildup of power filled the room. The phoenix gave an alarmed squawk as a shockwave erupted from the whizzing and whirling items, glass shattering from the power, then they fell away in ash. Fawkes blinked, trilling in fear for an innocent that his master was watching over. The majestic bird started to build up power inside of himself to go notify his master of what just occurred. Then a wave of warmth settled over him and he relaxed. The child was safe, the warmth told him. His power dissipating. Fawkes had nothing to fear for the young boy, the child was free from his master's clutches, the warmth seemed to say. He was safe. The phoenix ruffled its feathers once more, glancing at the empty cabinets one last time before tucking his beak beneath his wing, falling back to the land of dreams.

**Paris, France ICW Harry Potter's Triumph **

**French and British Ministry Gala **

**October 31****st**** 1988**

Couples glided across the marble floor, black and white dress robes billowing behind them as they danced. Gowns floating, as the ladies were twirled in intricate steps on the dance floor. The high vaulted ceiling was alight with stars in a masterful illusion of the night sky. Hundreds of torches lined the columns of walls, freezes of mystical beings dancing to the music of a beautiful orchestra. Tables lined the walls with piles of French delicacies on golden plates. Trays of flutes of champagne floated in between clusters of people conversing in jovial tones.

Clusters of men and women laughing, gestures wide as someone told a joke. A man walked through a tall arched doorway that led out to a balcony that overlooked lush gardens. The scent of flowers heady in the air. The man paused, tapping his fingers against his portly belly in thought. His brown thinning hair swayed in the breeze, dark eyes squinting to see the back of a man in bright blue robes with yellow stars. Black and white robes strained over his wide girth as the Minister of Magic moved forward.

"Ah Dumbledore! There you are! Why are you out here when you should be enjoying the wonderful festivities inside?"

The wizard turned, long white hair flowing in the wind, beard tucked into a hot pink belt. Glasses perched on a pointed nose as the wizard smiled jovially at the minister. Eyes twinkling in their blue depths.

"Cornelius my good man, I was just out enjoying the wonderful weather overlooking this marvelous garden. I wish Pomona were here, for she would have enjoyed its wonders. Perhaps she could enjoy it from the pensive."

Cornelius Fudge laughed.

"But of course Albus, however you are avoiding the question."

Fudge said a little more sternly.

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled a little brighter.

"Ah I find myself a little downtrodden this evening, Cornelius, for on this night two of my most loving friends lost their lives. I grieve this night. The people inside are too busy celebrating Harry Potter's triumph that they forget what was lost."

Cornelius turned solemn at that.

"Yes, there is that. I guess I will leave you to your grieving then. When will you be returning to Hogwarts? There is a Wizengamot meeting in four days."

Dumbledore visibly brightened. Twinkle returning to his eyes.

"I will return to the castle after the meeting. For now I shall enjoy my time of freedom from my duties as headmaster. I am sure Minerva can handle herself." Cornelius nodded.

"Very well, enjoy the rest of your night."

"You as well, my friend."

Fudge laughed.

"Of course, of course. The champagne is calling my name. Good evening."

With that the minister bowed to the headmaster and disappeared into the ballroom.

Dumbledore gazed after him for a moment before turning and looking out into the distance. His white hair flowing gently in the night breeze. He thought back to the small adorable child he had left on young Lily's sister's doorstep, all those years ago. Thinking back on the words of caution his transfiguration professor told him.

_"__They're the worst sorts of muggles."_ She had said. Dumbledore shut his eyes in regret. He thought back to the trinkets in his office that monitored the failing wards at Privet drive. He knew nothing good was happening to the child.

"For the greater good."

He whispered, once again locking away his emotions to the deepest recesses of his mind.

"Forgive me James, Lily, this is the only way."

Albus Dumbledore bowed his head in shame at what he was willingly allowing to happen to his most loyal's child. Then he turned and braved the gala once again.

**Privet Drive November 3****rd**** 1988**

_**The Lord is my Shepherd…He restores my soul; He guides me in the paths of righteousness For His name's sake.**_

**_~Psalm 23:3~_**

Freak was slow to returning to consciousness. His body heavy, his head full of cotton. He could hear wind beat against the window, rain slapping against glass as thunder crashed. The house creaked as old houses do. Something was wrong, Freak determined from where he lay. The last he could remember was a voice that shook his very soul. And a fury so hot it burned him.

Remembered warmth fading as if it had never been. The whispers were a quiet buzz, it seemed a heavy silence had descended upon Privet drive. An ominous feeling crept up in Freaks chest. He wiggled his toes, his feet, then he splayed his fingers against the cold floor. He wondered why his "aunt" had yet to yell at him. Freak stilled, he could feel a sticky substance that felt slick on his hands. It slid down his fingers and dried. Freak made a face, bringing his hand to his nose he took a curious sniff.

The tang of metal filled his nose. He cracked open his eyes. Blood. His hand was covered in blood. Fear shot down his spine, his tormentors will be angry. He has to clean it up now! Freak shoots up into a sitting position, then grips his head as a wave of dizziness washed over him. He breathes heavily though his nose.

Then he lifts his head and screams. Scrambling back, he slams into the cabinet with force causing pans to fall off the counter to land around him. Freak throws his hands over his ears to block out the sound.

Closing his eyes to block out the scene in front of him. Its then that he notices the smell, rotten eggs and decaying flesh. Bile rises in the back of his throat. He turns and spills it onto the kitchen floor. Bile mixing with tears and snot as sobs wrack his body. The image of his tormentors' smoking faces, mouths open in silent screams frozen in death is seared into his mind.

Where their eyes were are empty chasms pooling blood onto the floor, mixing with broken eggs. The storm rages, wind picking up in his distress. The whispers rise again filling his mind until the pounding on the door over takes them. Freak stood quickly, skirting around the bodies of his "relatives" and races to his cupboard.

Bloody foot prints left in his wake. He opens its door, jumps in, arm digging in his cots fold for his treasure. Cross squeezed like a life line, he curls in on himself and rocks back and forth. Tears spilling down his cheeks, hands sticky with blood. The pounding continued.

"Mr. and Mrs. Dursley! Are you in there?"

The pounding resumed. Muffled voices sounded from the other side.

"All right, if you are in trouble we will be there in just a moment." Shouted a muffled voice between pounds.

"Break down the door."

The door was thrown off its hinges and crashed into the foyers walls. Freak let out a soft cry as some wood flew into the cupboard and imbedded itself into the wall by his head. Freak scooted further into the wall in an attempt to merge with it. Violent shakes took hold of Freak as fear consumed him.

"Ugh! Bloody hell! What in the blazes is that smell." Said the man who had been shouting before.

"Check upstairs."

Silence.

Steps sounded above him…then…

"Clear!"

Sounds of descending footsteps. From where Freak was curled in his cupboard he could make out uniformed pants walking by his hiding place. The man crouched down to look at the smudges of blood on the floor. He had on black pants and a dark vest with a belt of pouches. Some sort of clunky item was strapped to his side. It looked like something Dudley used on the black box with pictures.

His hair a dark blond, eyebrows scrunched in thought. He gave a low curse as his amber eyes looked toward the kitchen. "Blood." The man said then motioned toward the kitchen with his hand. The sound of a click, and two more men entered Freak's line of vision. They made their way into his tormentor's tomb on silent feet.

Loud curses flew out of the room as the sound of one of the men calling for something called an ambulance sounded from the room.

"What is it?!"

The man who was still crouched before Freak shouted. The sound of echoing feet as the man came back into Freak's line of sight.

"We have a situation. Man, woman and child. All three dead with their eyes missing…looks like they were fried right out of their skull. Bloody hell, I've never seen anything like it in all my years." Freak whimpered quietly at the reminder of what lay in the kitchen. The officer's head snapped in Freak's direction. He stilled and sucked in a breath of disbelief.

"How many children did the Dursley's have?!"

"One on file sir, a Dudley Dursley. I assume he was the poor child that lays in the kitchen."

"Any other child in residence?"

"No sir, there are no records of any other child. Why?"

"Because I'm bloody well looking at one!"

Freak cringed as another man with black curly hair and blue eyes crouched down in front of the cupboard door. He sucked in a breath as Freak tried to scramble further away from them.

"Dear God." The man whispered. Staring at the small malnourished child covered in blood curled on a decaying mattress beneath the stairs. The Blonde man crawled forward on bended knees and reached inside. Freak flinched. Clutching his cross to him tightly. He squeezed his eyes shut in anticipation.

Tears of fear falling down his cheeks. He trembled. The whispers heightened then quieted. A warm hand landed softly on his head, carding through his blood matted hair.

"Shhh…" Said the man.

"It's alright now. You're safe, little one. You're safe." Cooed the man as he used his other arm to gently drag the little boy from the cupboard.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor do I own Supernatural. I am just a die hard fan:)

Please Review! I read all of them, thank you to everyone who has already:) Please fan and follow!

**_Enochian thought_**

**_"_****_Enochian speech"_**

_Thought_

**Beast tongue**

**Dean Winchester is born January 24 1979**

**Harry Potter is born July 31****st**** 1980**

**Sam Winchester is born May 2****nd**** 1983**

**November 2****nd**** 1983 Mary Winchester dies **

**Chapter 2**

**_Be wise now therefore, O ye kings: be instructed, ye judges of the the LORD with reverence and rejoice with the Son, lest he be angry, and ye perish from the way, when his wrath is kindled but a are all who take refuge in him._**

**_~Psalm 2: 10-12_**

**November 3rd 1988 5:17pm**

Pandemonium. The precinct was in chaos. The large room was lined with multiple desks. High ceilings with wooden paneling. Dozens of officers at each desk answering phone calls and clicking away at computers. Blatant disbelief hung in the air. A general look of confusion painted on everyone's face. Tension lined shoulders, legs pressed against each other to remind that they are not alone. Fear of the unknown choking breath, chills racing down spines. This is what the two gruff men walked in on.

Both men wore suit and tie, a gun holster at their hip. The first man was dark skinned with a goatee, dark eyes and short hair. The other had light skin, dark eyes, slicked back hair, and long side burns that met a trimmed mustache in an old fashioned do. Both men surveyed the room, trained eyes categorizing the exits. Then they walked along the wall around the desks of frantic officers in the room. Down a hallway to the last door on the left.

A name plate, gold in its color dulled with time, hung to its right. Captain Louis Bandello. The dark skinned man rose his fist and lightly knocked. The bronze knob twisted and then the two men were looking into liquid brown eyes with a tint of red. The man wore a black Armani suit and dark green tie. Dark brown hair slicked back in a posh style. The man smiled and stuck out a hand in greeting at the door. Both men outside the office raised their eyebrows at the action.

"Gentlemen my names Agent McLeod, please come in."

The newly named man waved them in and gestured to a man facing a large window overlooking London behind a desk.

"This man here is Captain Louis Bandello."

Both unnamed men walked in the room that they could now see was an office. A window stretched out against the wall across the door. Filing cabinets lined the wall to its left and book shelves lined the right. A glass desk stood before the window, files splayed out across it. From where the two men stood they could see photographs strewn on top of the files. Archaic symbols in each one. The sound of a door closing, none noticing that no hand had been used to shut it as McLeod came to stand beside them. The lighter skin toned of the two opened his mouth to speak. An amused glint shinning in McLeod's eyes.

"I am Agent Frank Castle."

The man behind the desk turned around. He was tall. Just reaching 6'3". Dirty blonde hair hung around his ears, amber eyes piercing dark eyes. Castle gestured to his partner.

"This is Agent Rupert Studdard. We are from Interpol. When the higher ups heard about the massacre at Privet Drive and the mysteriousness of the deaths we were sent to help."

McLeod's lips twitched as Bandello's mouth formed into a grim line.

"Interpol, huh? McLeod here is from Interpol as well. I didn't think they would send three of you."

Studdard and Castle stiffened. McLeod's lips twitched in amusement.

"We come from different departments. I come from the Ambassadors of the Queen's Guard and these gentlemen come from DMH, Department of Mysterious Homicide. Isn't that right boys."

The men shifted stiffly and nodded their heads. Agent Studdard opened his mouth.

"Yes, we look forward to working with you."

Bandello grimaced.

"We don't need help from the higher ups we have everything under control."

McLeod let out a bark of amusement.

"Sure you do Sasquatch, that's why every officer you have on staff are running around like chickens with their bloody heads cut off. Not only do you have no idea what caused the deaths, but it took you four days to reach Privet Drive after the distress call you received from what your precinct filed as a woman who is a bit touched in the head. One Arabella Figg. The woman has made many calls to this station about the domestic violence that went on in that house to a child that you all claimed didn't exist. That child who is sitting in the interrogation room as we speak. Moron." Castle and Studdard glanced at McLeod from the corner of their eyes.

Bandello rubbed his hands over his face in stress, then sighed. Combing his fingers through his hair.

"Your right. I know your right. It just irks me that we need the help. We've never had a situation like this before."

His voice was gruff with emotion. He glanced down at the photos on his desk. He picked one up and traced a finger along the symbol. Agent Studdard cleared his throat as he and Castle walked to stand before the desk. Taking a closer look at the photographs.

"What happened? Why did it take you so long to arrive at the scene?"

Agent Castle and Agent Studdard pierced Bandello with a look that demanded he answer. The captain sighed again as he put the photo back on the desk. McLeod grinning from ear to ear behind the two Agents. Amber eyes looked down at the photos, he rummaged through them until he found the ones of the bodies. Eight houses, eight families, all dead. Eyes all missing, burned from their sockets. Louis Bandello shook his head and began. Turning the photos toward the Agents in front of him. They made disgusted noises in the backs of their throats. McLeod merely hummed, his eyes sparking with an inscrutable emotion. Bandello eyed him warily before he began. Something was off with that man.

"Four days ago, on October 31st, we received a distress call at 7:04am from one Arabella Figg, detailing she heard a child screaming from number four Privet Drive. As per protocol, I ordered a team to investigate the call. In incidents previous, my men would come back swearing left and right that there was only one child at number four, Petunia and Vernon Dursley's son Dudley. My officers interrogated all the neighbors and they all stated the same.

There was only the one child. Arabella Figg was the only one who said otherwise. When my men knocked on the door, Mrs. Dursley let them in without fuss and had them for tea and crumpets as the men searched the house. The Dursleys claiming they had nothing to hide. There were no photos of another child.

The house smelt clean and when questioning the child Dudley, he confirmed that there wasn't another. As such we had no proof to hold up in court to file for a warrant for a more in depth search. So for all intents and purposes we truly believed there wasn't one. But had I known. Had I known. Well as far as I am concerned those monsters got what they deserved. May they rot in Hell."

"Oh don't worry, I'm sure they are."

The Captain's gaze shot to McLeod, Castle and Studdard fingering a flask with a cross that was poking out their jacket pockets as they leveled their gaze at him. Drinking on the job? Well with this case the captain couldn't blame them.

"Now, now don't mind me and my commentary. I'll just stand here and look pretty in the shadow of your canopy. Carry on."

Bandello's eyebrow twitched in annoyance but he continued.

"However, on that day things went differently. When arriving to the road that would take them into the Privet Drive a storm appeared out of nowhere. Lightning slammed down in front of the car. Repeatedly. When they tried to move around it, the lightning followed. Then the rain came down hard. Then they say they saw a light so bright they had to close their eyes lest they be blinded. My men were baffled and called it in to get back up. I came out with another three teams. We tried to enter the neighborhood from another direction but to no avail. Lightning struck down continuously at all entrances to Privet Drive."

"I've heard of a freak storm but never this."

Studdard shook his head in disbelief as the Captain continued.

"We stayed out there for four days waiting for the storm to let up so we could enter the neighborhood. We tried calling the residents but no one answered from any of the houses we called. It wasn't until the storm died on the fourth day, this morning that we found out why. When we finally entered the neighborhood, it was unnervingly quiet. My team and I went straight to number four, while I had the other teams go check out the state of the other families and Arabella Figg.

While my team and I found the Dursley family dead and the small child that was thankfully alive, the other teams found only death. All the families that lived on Privet Drive, even the animals, dead. Eyes burned out of their sockets, faces still smoking when they were found.

That child was the only one that survived that….whatever caused…whoever….the massacre. He hasn't said a word since we found him. Likely still in shock. He only clutches a small rusted cross like a life line. We have no leads, nothing to indicate the reason for it. The only thing we were able to find were these symbols burned into the tile floor beneath the Dursley's bodies. No residue was found in the creases of the symbols. Nothing indicating how they appeared. The symbols are archaic. I had them translated a few hours ago."

Bandello turned and faced the window, pressing the heels of his palms to the window sill. Castle stepped forward, McLeod leaning forward eagerly.

"What do the symbols mean, Captain?"

The Captain sighed. He still couldn't believe it. A cold fear gripped him of the unknown.

"The child was covered in blood when we found him. We took a sample of the blood as well as his, they were the same. But when we cleaned him up, he had no wounds only scars that looked like he had been hurt months ago. The blood was only four days old."

"Bullocks. Bloody interesting, that."

Exclaimed McLeod, his eyes gleaming in interest, a smirk painted across his face.

Studdard clicked his teeth in annoyance.

"What do the symbols mean?"

The Captain glanced over his shoulder at them.

"There Enochian. The language of Angels."

Both Agents made sounds of disbelief. McLeod rolled his eyes.

"Charming. Get on with it stretch we don't have all day. A bottle of Craig is calling my name."

Bandello's brows furrowed in anger but he turned toward them and spoke. Gesturing to McLeod.

"McLeod was the one who translated it. He is a linguist in his spare time, apparently."

Blatant looks of disbelief were past between Castle, Studdard and the Captain. McLeod looked affronted.

"What?! I am good with languages."

"Yeah, ones that have no place in today's world. Dead ones. Idjit."

Muttered Castle as he rubbed a hand over his beard in frustration. Caressing a thumb on the flask in his pocket.

"Then shall he speak unto them in his wrath, and vex them in his sore displeasure. Yet have I set my king upon my holy hill of Zion. I will declare the decree: the LORD hath said unto me, Thou _art_ my Son; this day have I begotten thee. Ask of me, and I shall give _thee_ the heathen _for_ thine inheritance, and the uttermost parts of the earth _for_ thy possession. Thou shalt break them with a rod of iron; thou shalt dash them in pieces like a potter's vessel."

The men gazed at the Captain in shock.

"It's Psalm 2: 5-9. Never have I come across something like this. The storm, that light, the way those people died and that little boy whose wounds heal faster than humanly possible, surviving when everything else that was living died. It's suspicious."

Bandello gazed at them, his very expression serious.

"What are you suggesting? That a child murdered everyone on Privet Drive? You do know such a notion is bloody ridiculous."

McLeod said.

"No! The child looks barely five years old. Though he is probably a couple of years older. His growth is most likely stunted due to malnutrition. Those people were starving him. I am merely suggesting that perhaps this was done by someone who considers themselves as a guardian angel of a sort for the boy."

The captain denied.

"Some guardian."

Muttered McLeod. Studdard sighed in agreement, glanced down at the sightless faces gazing up at him from the photos and spoke.

"The message could be construed as the obvious motive. But we should put such speculations aside until we have more clues."

Castle hummed.

"I'll say. The child, can we speak with him?"

"He hasn't said a word since he was brought here. No amount of coaxing has made a difference. We are starting to suspect he may be mute. Whether from the trauma or something else we are hard-pressed to tell. However, yes you may take a shot at interrogating him. A word of caution, the child is jumpy. He calmed some after we cleaned him up and gave him a fluffy robe that belonged to one of my men's children that he had in his car. However, he flinches when someone comes too close. So try to appear as unthreatening to him as possible."

The Agents nodded and turned to follow the Captain as he made his way to the door. McLeod was already by it, holding it open.

"After you bean stalk."

McLeod said with a smirk. Bandello huffed and brushed past him walking briskly out the door. Castle and Studdard followed. McLeod's eyes flashed red, as he bared his teeth in a shark like grin. He walked out into the hall following the officer and two hunters in front of him. Honestly those meat suits were so obvious, he thought in amusement. As he walked he flicked his hand in a two finger salute, the office door clicked shut as if by an invisible wind. It was time to make a deal.


	4. Chapter 4

A/N Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor do I own Supernatural. I am just a die hard fan:)

A/N: For those of you wondering what happened to Arabella Figg, it will be made clear in the next chapter if you haven't already guessed, yet. Hope you enjoy this chappie! Happy reading:)

Please Review! I read all of them, thank you to everyone who has already:) Please fan and follow!

**_Enochian thought_**

**_"Enochian speech"_**

_Thought_

**Beast tongue**

**Dean Winchester is born January 24 1979**

**Harry Potter is born July 31st 1980**

**Sam Winchester is born May 2nd 1983**

**November 2nd 1983 Mary Winchester dies **

**Chapter 3**

_**For without cause they have hidden their net for me unto destruction: without cause they have upbraided my soul. Let the snare which he knoweth not, come upon him: and let the net which he hath hidden, catch him: and into that very snare let him fall…**_

_**~Ps 34:1, 4-9~**_

**_ Interrogation Room November 3rd 1988 5:17pm_**

The whispers were a quiet hum in the back of his mind. Fear still gripped his heart in a vise like hold. His tormentors were gone, but now he was alone in an unfamiliar world. The room was cold, stank of metal and despair. The air was stale and tasted of rust one found in really old places. Freak sat upon a fold out steel chair nibbling on one of the apple slices he'd been given. A tall glass of a white substance was in front of him on a steel table. Water droplets fogged the glass dripping down its sides forming a puddle around it. A plastic plate rested to its right with fruit. A couple of slices of apples and bunch of grapes.

Freaks eyes trailed the droplets of water in interest. The whispers murmuring in amusement. Freak chewed, savoring the taste of the apple. Its sweet and sour flavor bursting on his tongue. Trying to ignore the intense stare of the man across from him. When the water bored him he darted his eyes to the wide mirror to his right. It ran the expanse of the brick wall. His wide eyed reflection stared back at him as well as the intense stare of the man. He ducked his head and then looked up at the vent that was blowing gently the cold air. Rust glimmered in the fluorescent light. He darted his eyes to the wooden door, its bronze knob gleaming in the light.

He shivered and pulled the white fluffy cloth around him to keep warm. Curling his legs up under his chin. His toes scrunching up to tuck under the material. The long sleeves stretch out over his hands until only the very tips of his fingers were showing. He clutched his treasure in his left hand. He finished his apple piece then slowly reached his right hand toward the plate. His eyes darting to the man again. Quickly snatching the bunch of grapes. Then ducking his head as he waited for a blow. When none was forthcoming he darted his eyes to the man again in curiosity. Then blatantly ate a grape. Crunching loudly. Then squeezing his eyes shut, burying his head in his knees. Ears straining for a sign of movement. There were none. He cracked open an eye to see the man had quirked an eyebrow at him but did nothing else. Thus Freak determined it was safe to eat the grapes. Swallowing he stuffed another grape in his mouth. Chewing slowly, he studied the man. He was middle aged with greying hair and goatee. He wore a black shirt and slacks with a clerical collar. He had introduced himself earlier but the whispers had been so loud he hadn't heard. Freak didn't know what to think.

He had never been showed kindness like his tormentors were. He didn't trust it so Freak's fear didn't lessen. However his trembling had finally subsided when he realized his captors weren't going to hit him. They took him to this place that had smelled of sickness and death. Cleaned him, made a lot of loud noises and flashes of light that stung Freaks eyes. Then they gave him the fluffy material he was wearing. He didn't know what to make of it. Normally the whispers would help him understand what the big people were saying. At least they did with his tormentors. But they had been so loud since he had been taken by that man from his cupboard.

The man smiled at the small boy in front of him. The child's eyes widened at the action and his emerald eyes darted away again as he stuffed another grape into his mouth. The man was from the states and an old colleague of his had invited him on a retreat to London, all expenses paid. Who was he to say no to that? However, shortly after arriving the London police showed up asking for assistance to calm a victim of quite the mysterious case. In fact one might call it supernatural. Though the man had no idea what could have done this. He called his contacts in the states to see what they made of it. Both of them said they were already in London following a hunt that decided it wanted to cross the pond to escape. The man's two friends were too stubborn to let it. The man was just happy they could help. Though the man was having trouble calming the child. The child hadn't spoken since he had arrived.

Only clutching that cross like a life line. He wondered if the child even knew what it stood for. All signs indicated the child had never left the vicinity of the house. There had been no other religious articles at the site. So the man wondered where the child got it. The man sighed, the child's eyes darted to him, head tilted in question.

"Do you know what that is in your hand?"

The man sighed again when only confusion registered in the child's eyes

Freak pursed his lips when the man spoke. The words sounding garbled and strange. The whispers drown out the man's voice. Not interpreting the man at all. Freak furrowed his eyebrows in annoyance. He didn't understand. Normally they aided him when others spoke, but they weren't now. It was as if they were focused on something else. Freak tilted his head to the left as he tried to make out what the whispers were saying. The man was speaking again, this time Freak heard no sound at all. The whispers sounded angry. Rage colored the words. Until Freak could make out a two words that were being repeated over and over again.

_**Run! Danger! Run! Danger! Run! Danger! Run! Danger! Run!**_

Sweat gathered at the base of Freak's neck as he paled. His hands started to tremble as the feeling of wrongness pervaded his senses. His eyes darted around the room looking for an escape. Something was coming! He had to get out! He had to leave!

_**Run! Danger! Run! Danger! Run! Danger! Run! Danger! Run!**_

The door opened and the whispers went silent. The urgency of the message still buzzing beneath his skin. Freak choked, the grapes falling out of his hand to scatter on the floor. A miasma of decay and the stench of death coated the back of his throat as the feeling of wrongness suffocated him. He fell to the floor. The man making an alarmed sound at the back of his throat. Freak scrambled to the other side of the room. His eyes darting to the man that just walked in. Terror gripped him. A feeling of heaviness pressed down upon him, it turned his very limbs to lead.

The man in the clerical collar was next to him shaking his shoulder trying to get him to calm down. But Freak's eyes were riveted to the one who just walked in the door. What had once been a handsome face was shadowed in a grotesque parody of one. Black hair hung lank around his face, blue eyes shadowed in darkness. This was one of the men who had rescued him. Freak didn't understand what happened. But as the dark one walked closer, Freak could hear it. The screaming voice of the man tortured in the shadow. The closer he walked the louder the screams became. Until his ears started ringing.

"Hello Child and Pastor. I am Officer Ray Strider."

The Officer said wearing a smug smirk.

"Officer? I think you should leave. You are frightening the boy."

Said the Pastor that sat on his haunches next to the child. An ugly smile stretched across the Officer's grotesque face. Freak started to hyperventilate. The man laughed.

"Oh I don't think I will flesh bag."

The Pastor paled at that and rasped out, "Christo!"

The dark one's eyes turned black and he laughed. The holy man made to grab Freak but with a swipe of the evil's hand the man went flying back against the wall. He hung there suspended by an invisible force. Arms outstretched on either side of him. Freak screamed and ran toward him. But that same force flung him to the opposite wall suspending him there. He could feel the rough brick digging into his back through the soft material he wore. Freak hung onto his cross for dear life. Shivers wracked his form as he struggled to breath under the weight of evil. Tears ran down his face. Running footsteps could be heard.

"Why don't you meat suits hang around we are about to have company."

The monster laughed.

Captain Bandello ran into the room, followed by Agents Studdard, Castle, and McLeod. Upon entry, Studdard and Castle grabbed the flasks in their jackets. Before they could use them, however, they too were flung upon the walls. The door slammed shut. Other officers banging on the door to get inside. There shouts muffled. All the while, the monster laughed and laughed. Freak shivered. The laughter overlaid the screams of the once man.

"Bullocks," McLeod mumbled from his place on the wall. His eyebrow twitching in annoyance. He attempted to gather power to break the hold but the black eyes was stronger.

"Ah, Captain. How nice of you to join us! And you brought some wonderful flesh bag friends. Choices. Choices. However, shall I decide?"

The monster questioned.

"Strider! What is the meaning of this?! Let us go!" The Captain yelled.

The dark one cackled, his mouth stretching into an insane grin.

"Oh you poor fool. Strider isn't here right now. In fact he will never be here again."

The black eyes smirked, tapping a finger on his chin.

"Let the man go demon! When I get down from here I am so exorcising your ass!"

Castle yelled.

"Ha! You exorcise me? Don't make me laugh, meat suit. If you were capable of such a thing it would have happened already."

Declared the demon as he sauntered over to the man that was at his mercy.

"Now how shall I kill you? Choices. Choices." Hummed the demon. McLeod rolled his eyes at the dramatics, busy building his power. He be damned if he let this bitch best him.

"Exorcizamuste, omnis immundus spiritus, omnis satanica potestas…." Started Studdard and the Pastor. The demon jumped back and screamed. McLeod squeezed his red eyes shut, gritting his teeth as he fought against the chant. _Damn hunters._

"No! You bastard! I won't be exorcised by the likes of you!" The demon flung his hand and slashed the two men across the chest. Blood gushed out of the fresh wound and dripped upon the floor. The men gurgled, as blood spilled out their mouths.

"Ah the sweet sound of dying gurgles." The dark one sighed.

"Rufus! Jim! NO!" Yelled Castle.

McLeod sighed in relief. Freak screamed at the sight of blood running down the floor. His frightened eyes glued to the monster. His scream gaining its attention. The monster once again walked leisurely toward him.

"No! Leave the child alone!" Screamed Castle.

The demon smirked as he came up to Freak. His hand striking out to grip Freak's neck, choking. Freak struggled to breath. The touch burned and he shrieked in agony. The demon laughed.

"Now you small fry. You and I are going to have a nice long chat about that power of yours." The demon inhaled a long gust. "Yes I smell it on you. That power. It tastes pure, with a little bit of darkness, I will take it and make it mine."

Freak struggled as he tried and failed to get breath. The howls of pain of the once man being drowned out by the whispers once again. Until finally Freak stilled. The monster released the invisible force until only his hand was holding the child's body up.

"No!" Choked out the Pastor. The Captain had gone pale in disbelief.

Freaks hands fell limply to his sides, his head lolling forward, the demon smiled then frowned as he felt a buildup power. McLeod smiled in anticipation. The whispers were shouting now as Freak felt his consciousness start to slip. The cross pulsed, warmth enveloped him, his hand closing around his treasure with his remaining strength. The warmth told him to relax, that it would be alright. The whispers strengthened, consuming, until they filled his very being. Warming every limb with strength and heat.

Then they took control slamming Freaks hand that held the cross onto the demon's that choked him. The demon screamed in pain. Power coursed through Freak, this time he felt it. It filled his mind as the demon struggled to release him, to get away. But Freak held fast. The men suspended on the walls sucked in a breath of incredulity as Freak looked up. His eyes ablaze in pure light. The whispers shouted in urgency, the power and voices filling his mind until thousands upon thousands spilled from his mouth.

_**"**__**In the Name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, Amen**_!"

The glass upon the table and the wall length mirror shattered. Glass falling upon the floor. The men that had been suspended on the walls and on the other side of the mirror falling to the ground. Grasping their heads. Everyone screaming as the voices roared.

"_**Let GOD arise and let His enemies be scattered: and let them that hate Him flee from before His Face! As smoke vanisheth, so let them vanish away: as wax melteth before the fire, so let the wicked perish at the Presence of GOD!"**_

(Ps 67:1-2).

The Captain struggled to crawl toward the child and his screaming possessed officer. Leaving a trail of blood that spilled down his ears.

_**"**__**Judge Thou, O' Lord, them that wrong me: overthrow them that fight against me. Let them be confounded and ashamed that seek after my soul. Let them be turned back and be confounded that devise evil against me. Let them become as dust before the wind!"**_

(Ps 34:1, 4-9).

The demon released an inhuman scream as light erupted from his eyes. His body dropped releasing the child that floated gently to the ground. Eyes still ablaze in light. The man landed on his hands and knees before the child, hacking coughs raking through his body. Black ash falling from his mouth. Sweat coated his brow as blue tear filled eyes glanced up at the child. The whispers triumphant. Freak turned their gaze to the men upon the floor. Blood poured from the men's ears, two with slashes upon their chests, creating a puddle around them. A chill went down McLeod's spine as he frantically tried to come up with a plan to avoid the same fate.

Freak tilted his head as the whispers guided him, he walked to the men, his treasure clenched tightly in his fist. The whispers fell to a quiet hum, encouraging, Freak touched the one closest. A familiar amber eyed man who gazed upon him in awe. The blood and pain disappeared from the man's face. Wonder clouded his expression. Immediately the Captain pressed his face to the floor and started whispering franticly.

"Oh my God! Source of all mercy! I acknowledge Thy sovereign power…" (Prayer to Redeem lost time)

One by one Freak walked to and gently touched the forehead of each man. Taking the pain and wounds from each one. Studdard and the Pastor releasing a sigh of relief as the pain left them. The pastor crossing himself again and again as he whispered the Prayer of the Our Father, his gaze riveted to the miracle in front of him. Castle's eyes darted between the child and the formally possessed man. Ash spilled in front of him, followed by black bile. Until there was nothing left to come up. The man scrambled away from the pile, wiping his mouth with his sleeve. Tears falling down his cheeks.

Castle's eyes flew back to the child as he felt small fingers touch his cheek. He stiffened as warmth and peace filled him until every ounce of him was consumed. For a moment it felt as if nothing else mattered. The room and the others fell away until he was in a garden so vast his eyes couldn't see the end of it. The sun blazed golden in the sapphire sky. His wife beckoned him, laughing running to him putting a wreath of flowers that smelled of honeysuckle upon his head. Joy bloomed in his heart as he felt soft lips brush his cheek, a whispered phrase on the wind. _I Love You…._

Then he was back in the police station in London, tears falling down his cheeks, the absence of pain barely registering as his brain failed to compute what just happened. Warmth settling beneath his skin as if he would never be cold again. Freak moved to the last man and stopped. The feeling of wrongness returned, the whispers rising, as the man picked himself up to tower over him. The cross pulsed in a soothing rhythm.

"Well you sure have a flare for the dramatic don't you, half pint?"

McLeod exclaimed. His eyes flashing red. The other men in the room rose to their feet in alarm. The demon scoffed and flung out his hand slamming their heads into the walls knocking them all out at once.

"Now that they're out of the way you and I can talk."

Freak took a step back, he didn't understand, but the feeling of wrongness saturated the air. The whispers too loud to aid him in understanding, confusion clouded his face as his eyes dimmed to emerald once again. McLeod made a sound of annoyance in the back of his throat.

"Don't tell me you can't understand a word I am saying, can you?" The confusion in the child's eyes answered that question.

"Bullocks. Well…._**Can you understand me now?" **_Questioned the demon.

_**"**__**You speak?"**_ The child asked, glass shattered in the distance as the demon screamed, grabbing his ears. Never has he heard another speak words he could understand without the aid of the whispers.

"_**Tone it down on the power, kid. You're killing me here!"**_ Shouted the demon.

_**"**__**Darkness. Red stain. Wrongness. Why have the screams been silenced in the body you have taken?" **_Freak questioned. The demon shouted at the child, squeezing his eyes shut in pain.

_**"**__**Your power! Tone it down! If not for me, then for the humans! You'll kill them!" **_

The whispers silenced. _**"Tell me!"**_

The demon huffed in relief as only an uncomfortable ringing went through his ears. He stared at the piercing glare the child was giving him. Sweat trailing down the back of his neck. The thought that he may have bitten off more than he can chew in the back of his mind.

_**"**__**This meat suit had just died when I possessed it. The soul having already left. Been dead for centuries." **_The demon explained as he stood up. Walking over to the body of the Pastor and toeing it with his shoe. Freak hissed.

_**"**__**Why are you here, dark one?" **_Freak asked. The cross warm against his hand.

"_**Why to make a deal of course!" **_Exclaimed the demon. Freak tilted his head as the whispers heightened, images and their meanings filling his head of what a deal entails in seconds.

_**"**__**I am not giving you my soul, red stain!" **_The ground shook with the force of his yell. The whispers roaring in rage. McLeod raised his hands up in a calming gesture. Thunder crashed in the distance.

_**"**__**Relax, it is not your soul I am after." **_Crooned the demon.

_**"**__**Then speak."**_ Freak intoned. The red eyed demon hummed as he stepped closer to Freak.

_**"**__**I propose a trade of sorts." **_The whispers heightened.

_**"**__**Trade?"**_ Freak questioned.

_**"**__**Yes, trade. I am curious how you made it this far because it is obvious you don't know English, nor do you know how to control that delicious power very well. So my proposition is this. I teach you English, how to control your power, and about the world. In exchange, you use that nifty little power of yours to get rid of the 'wrongness' in my enemies, and you let me have that parasite inside your scar and help me find the rest." **_Droned the demon.

_**"**__**Parasite?" **_Freak paled a bit at that. Ignoring the obvious hint at telling the demon about the whispers.

**_"_****_Horcrucx. A soul piece, created when one murders someone, the soul is then torn and a piece is placed in an object. Somehow a piece has clung to you." _**

Freak looked down at the cross in his hand in thought. The whispers silent once more. The cold of the room drifting across his awareness.

_**"**__**Is it a piece of my soul?"**_ Freak probed.

_**"**__**No, yours is pure, while that piece is black as night. So, do we have a deal?" **_McLeod queried baring his teeth in a parody of a smile. The whispers heightened then quieted. One word repeated across Freak's mind.

_**"**__**Yes." **_The demon laughed as he strode over to the child. Reaching his hand out to tilt the child's face up. Emerald eyes looked questioningly into crimson. The demon grinning all the while. Kneeling down until he was level with the child he put his lips to the child's ear.

_**"**__**Then we have an accord." **_McLeod tilted the child's face down and kissed the lightning bolt shaped scar. Castle struggling awake. He opened his eyes blearily in time to see the sealing of the deal.

"No." He whispered, his heart aching at the loss of the child's soul. He blinked. Then both McLeod and the mysterious child were gone.


	5. Chapter 5

A/N Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor do I own Supernatural. I am just a die hard fan:)

A/N: Happy 4th of July People! Please check out my other stories and review! Happy reading!

Please Review! I read all of them, thank you to everyone who has already:) Please fan and follow!

**_Enochian thought_**

**_"Enochian speech"_**

_Thought_

**Beast tongue**

**Dean Winchester is born January 24 1979**

**Harry Potter is born July 31st 1980**

**Sam Winchester is born May 2nd 1983**

**November 2nd 1983 Mary Winchester dies**

Chapter 4

**_There is nothing reliable in what they say; Their inward part is destruction itself. Their throat is an open grave; They flatter with their thou them, O God; let them fall by their own counsels; cast them out in the multitude of their transgressions; for they have rebelled against thee._**

**_~Psalm 5:9-10~_**

**Hogwarts November 3****rd**** 1988**

**Headmaster's Office**

Fawkes was startled awake as the floo burst into green flame. The Phoenix nearly falling off his perch. He ruffled his feathers in annoyance as first one arm came through the flame, then his master's head came out, following the rest of his body. Albus Dumbledore stretched as he dusted off the floo soot from his bright magenta robes. Beard rustling as the last vestiges of ash fell to the floor. He glanced up at his familiar's irritated trills.

A chuckle died in his throat as he took in the state of his office. His heart going cold. Glass littered the floor, his trinkets that monitored Harry Potter lay in pieces on the shelves. Papers scattered, his chair fallen on its side, desk singed by magical power. With panic clouding his mind he about faced. Hand thrusting into his jar of floo powder. Throwing a handful into the red fire turning it green once more.

"Arabella Figg! Privet Drive!" He shouted then walked into the flames and disappeared.

Fawkes eyed the fire place in worry before warmth filled him again, this time calling out to him. Fawkes tilted his head listening for a moment as whispered words sounded through the room. Beckoning him. He trilled out questioningly, then answered the call. Vanishing in a burst of flame.

**Arabella Figg Number 8 Privet Drive**

**November 3****rd**** 1988**

Albus Dumbledore quickly walked out of the fireplace at Figg's house. His eyes darting around, magic automatically disillusioning him as he caught sight of the muggle officers roaming the room. The fading wall paper was peeling and window glass tinted yellow from lack of cleaning. He stepped quickly around the men wearing rubber gloves, taking samples of the hairs on couches and blood on the floor. He could feel bile rising in the back of his throat as the smell of rotting flesh met his nose. He put a hand over his mouth as he waved his wand to get rid of the scents surrounding him. He followed the line of blood to see Arabella's cats dead with their eyes burned from their skulls. Dozens of them lay still around the den. Blood pooling around their heads. _What could have done this?_ A sick feeling began to fill him and dread crept up his spine as he walked into the entry way where he could hear the sound of the most voices.

He choked, hopping over the officer that was placing a sheet over the body of Arabella, Albus raced out of the house. He ran as fast as his feet would carry him. Trying to get that eyeless face from his mind. He pushed it behind occulemency barriers. Eyes scanning the street noting the dozens of vehicles with flashing lights. Officers and paramedics carrying the dead out of every house. He prayed to any deity that would listen that whatever happened here their savior had escaped the same fate. Jumping over a trash can in a surprisingly nimble display for his age he came abruptly to a stop as he saw body bags being carted out of number 4 Privet Drive. Smoke steaming from where the heads would be. Two big ones and a small one the size of a child.

Quickly he cast a spell at the small bag to find Dudley Dursley inside. He wouldn't go into the house, thinking he could not stomach what he would find. He scanned the minds of the first officer he came across. He was one of the men who had searched the house. Dumbledore breathed a sigh of relief to find that Harry was still alive. He turned on his heel and apparated.

Dumbledore arrived at the London Police station to find chaos. Still under a heavy disillusion spell he observed. All the windows had been blown out, paramedics were everywhere, tending to those that were heavily wounded from the explosion. The noise level of the station was enough to rupture his ear drums. Albus wasted no time in scanning the minds of those around them to find out where Harry was. He quickly headed to the interrogation rooms praying the child would be there. What he found made his blood turn to ice, blood ran along the floor, pooling around the five men that were miraculously unharmed. Glass littered the floor here too and there was a strange black ashy substance on the ground near a black haired man that was staring in awe at the boy.

Harry Potter was up against a wall with some sort of dark creature leaning over him. The darkness that was coming from the man choked Albus, clogging his throat. He couldn't breathe, doubling over. His magic gathered about to lash out as the creature kissed the young boys forehead. Icy dread filled him as he fell to his knees under the weight of the creature's power. He only managed to mouth a weak "no" as he blinked. Then Harry Potter and the creature were gone.

**The Virgin Komi Forests**

**Ural Mountains, Russia**

**November 3****rd**** 1988 **

Freak crumpled to the ground, gasping for air to rid himself of the taint the stain's touch inflicted upon him. Blatant disbelief clouded his mind. Knees landing on moist dirt, hands pressing into soil, leaves crinkling as his fingers brushed them. His right fisted around his treasure dug into the earth, pulsing out warmth as he got his breathing under control. He could feel the dark one walk around to stand somewhere off to Freak's right. Emerald eyes focused upon the grains of dirt, observing the life as the earth beneath him breathed with his own.

Worms squirmed around in the foliage of decaying leaves that added nutrients to the ground. Wind caressed his cheeks as the sounds of life filled his ears. Freak lifted his head to let out a soft gasp. A vast body of water was in front of him, so clear it reflected the red ball of light and white fluff in the sky. Tall trees dwarfed him, lining the still water, great land masses rising up toward the heavens in the distance. Euphoria filled him, never had Freak seen something so beautiful.

Warmth spreading to his limbs giving him strength to move. He stood and walked toward the water's edge with hesitant steps. Once there he let the gentle lapping of the calm waves soothe him. A smile spread across his face as the fluffy material he wore absorbed the water. The whispers rose and fell with the gentle rhythm of the waves and the symphony of the forest. Freak couldn't believe it. He glanced at the red stain out of the corner of his eye. The dark one was standing with his back straight, hands in pockets and gazing out into the distance. Aside from the tainted touch of the dark one, Freak felt cleaner and lighter now than he had in his whole life.

The dark one must be a Freak too, he decided. How else could they have appeared here in this beautiful place? When only moments before they were in that grey room with those men. Crouching down, Freak gently cradled his treasure and rinsed it in the water. Eyes fluttering closed as energy swept through him at the contact. He could feel the life in the water pulse. He could see it. The whispers heightened. Fish swimming, algae growing, creatures hunting. He opened his eyes till he was staring heavy lidded out to the land masses in the distance.

He wondered what it would be like to stand at the top of one. Perhaps he could reach heaven if he climbed high enough. The whispers hummed amusement. A chuckle interrupted his musings. He glanced to his right, idly observing how the fading light cast shadows across the dark one's face, making his red eyes shine.

**_"_****_Enjoying yourself, are you?" _**The wrongness asked.

**_"_****_Yes" _**Freak simply replied, the whispers a quiet murmur. Making his voice echo just a bit. The stain let out a sigh and moved his hands back into his pockets that had been covering his ears.

**_"_****_Good, cause we will be here for a while yet. This is what people call a forest, far away from civilization. Where we don't have to worry about killing what we don't want to be killing."_**

Freak only hummed a response as he lazily trailed his fingers in the cool water. Fascinated by the small black creatures that followed the digits and nipped at his toes. Eyes alight in wonder.

**_"_****_We didn't really have the time back there, but what's your name little one?"_**

The dark one inquired, curiously.

**_"_****_My tormentors called me a number of things, the abomination, boy, ungrateful whelp. But the one they used the most was Freak, so I assume that is my name."_**

The dark one went rigid for a moment as he absorbed the information.

**_"_****_Freak isn't a name lad, it's a thing one calls someone they believe is lesser then themselves. I certainly am not going to be calling you Freak so we will just have to come up with something else. Have any preference?" _**The dark one asked.

Freak tilted his head in thought. The whispers were screaming now, so loud his eyes were watering. Freak closed his eyes allowing the life of the forest to soothe him as he put to words what the whispers were telling him.

**_"_****_Then from now on I will be Ascha Nanaeel and Freak no more." _**Green eyes opening to staring into the dark one's red. Noticing that his face had drained of color and the smile had turned into a tense line.

**_"_****_Is something wrong dark one?" _**Freak now known as Ascha asked. The dark one visibly gulped and smiled a tight smile. Sweat gathering at his brow, he shook his head.

**_"_****_No, nothing at all. Let's get to work shall we?" _**

Ascha smiled. His treasure singing with the whispers in his mind in tune with the forest. Then Ascha laughed for the first time. The bright sound echoing through the valley. Chiming like bells in the setting ball of fire. The coming night heralding a new chapter in his life that would soon change the world. Though neither he nor the dark one knew that just yet. For a new dawn was coming and Ascha would be there to light the way.


	6. Chapter 6

A/N Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor do I own Supernatural. I am just a die hard fan:) Happy reading

Oh Please check out my other stories "Bond of the Soul" and "Oceans Deep."

Bond of the Soul is a time travel fic where Harry goes back in time to the tri-wizard tournament. It is a FemHarry/Tom pairing Prologue and chapter 1 and 2 posted

Oceans Deep is a crossover with the Argeneau series. The Argeneau series is a vampire series by Lindsey Sands. The vampires were made immortal by science(nano technology) and are descendants of Atlantis. There will be a pairing with Harry in the story. But it won't happen for a while. Hope you check it out and review. Prologue and Chapter 1 posted.

Please Review! I read all of them, thank you to everyone who has already:) Please fan and follow! And check out my other stories!

**_Enochian thought_**

**_"Enochian speech"_**

_Thought_

**Beast tongue**

**Dean Winchester is born January 24 1979**

**Harry Potter is born July 31st 1980**

**Sam Winchester is born May 2nd 1983**

**November 2nd 1983 Mary Winchester dies**

**Chapter 5**

**So when you spread out your hands in prayer, I will hide My eyes from you; Yes, even though you multiply prayers, I will not listen. Your hands are covered with blood. Wash yourselves, make yourselves clean; Remove the evil of your deeds from My sight. Cease to do evil,****Learn to do good; Seek justice, Reprove the ruthless, Defend the orphan, Plead for the widow.**

**~Isaiah 1:15-17~**

**London Police Station Interrogation rooms**

Ray Strider struggled his way to consciousness after his head took a massive hit from the invisible force of the monster. The cold press of tile bit into his cheek from where it was pressed into the floor. Tears and snot ran down the sides of his face. He could feel wetness gathering at his brow, most likely blood from where his head hit the floor. Bile and ash coated his mouth and he fought to keep it down. He felt dirty. Tainted. As if he will never be clean again. A chill had made his way into his body. Into his very bones. Freezing his soul. A longing. A yearning so deep to bask in that gentle touch. Even if it was only for a moment. He had seen. He had known the truth. And he yearns for that moment again. Faith had never been a part of his life. He had gone to Sunday school like a good little boy.

But as he got older it became more of a gimmick. Something that was so monotonous. Done over and over again that it had lost its meaning. After being on the force for five years and seeing so much bad in the world while on duty. He had stopped believing in Heaven and Hell. Especially after his wife revealed that she was a squib and magic was real. Why believe in something you can't see when you have something that is proven and real right in front of you. Obviously he had missed something.

In all his years he had never even imagined that demons could be real. He should have known when he found out magic was real that there was a very real chance that other beliefs were real too. He had been possessed. Pain unlike anything he had ever experienced. He had suffered. It had only been a couple of hours, but it felt infinitely more. Like a lifetime had gone by. A spectator in his own body. Frozen, a chill surrounding him until it burned and he could feel his skin peeling off of muscle and bone. The image that had stared at him in the mirror was grotesque. Rotted, eyeless and decaying flesh drooping down the sides of his skull. Desolation had filled him. He had given up hope. Only staring horrified as his body was used like a homicidal puppet. When his hand closed around that poor child's neck, his soul was filled with despair and he screamed in agony. Children were precious and here this monster was going to do the unforgivable using his body. Then the child looked up and he had seen.

He had been bathed in warmth. His soul thawing and the monster falling away like ashes as he expelled the devil from his mouth. He had watched in fascinated disbelief as the ashes boiled then turned to embers as the fell out of his throat. Tasting something foul. Bile soon followed. Tears mixing with the pile. Then the warmth disappeared. He had glanced up in awe and disappointment. For how was he to ever get warm without his presence? Then that red eyed monster took him. Slamming him into the floor, he only blacked out for a moment.

Enough time to see that monster kissing the child and them disappearing. Strider twitched his fingers as he tried to get up. His captain lay across from him. He could see his prone form by the door. Unmoving. There was a figure there. His body was swathed in a magenta robe. A wizard then. He moved his head a bit to see the rest of him. The man was old, a long white beard tucked into a belt around his hips. His hair was disheveled and his expression held between grim and disbelief. He was familiar.

His wife must have described him or shown him a picture. Dumbly something or other. The wizard's eyes swept over Strider and the rest of the rooms unconscious occupants calculatingly. Then he waved his wand over them and quietly mumbled Obliviate. A strange feeling came over Strider as he watched the man turn on his heel and disappear. His mind was fading. The last hours blurring together until a sudden blaze of warmth burned away the feeling. Cascading over his limbs. A soothing melody sung in the air. Thawing his body and filling him with joy. He could feel it. Imagine it as if he was right there with him. His gentle touch. Drops of something wet fell onto his head. Tears fell down his cheeks as he rested his head against the tile and let the soft musical trills sooth him to oblivion.

_Daily Profit _

_Massacre at Privet Drive. Dumbledore Lies?_

_Our Missing Savior, Kidnapped?_

_ By Rita Skeeter_

_Today, dear readers, I bring you grave news. At exactly 8:27am the alarms at the Department of Mysteries went off. Stating that there was a massive magical fluctuation at the location of Privet Drive. As per procedure the team of obliviators were sent out only to return with bewildering and alarming news. They could not get into the neighborhood of Privet Drive. At that time our beloved ministry did not understand the gravity of the situation._

_ But I digress, they called in the unspeakables to see if they would have more luck. Unfortunately they did not. Magic, it seemed, had threaded itself into the very air. It was uncontrollable. Causing the weather to go chaotic. Now it is theorized from evidence that was found on the 3rd of November that this was the accidental magic of our beloved savior. For only one who could defeat You-Know-Who could have that kind of power. _

_For three days the unspeakables along with muggle authority attempted to get into the neighborhood. However it wasn't until the third day that the weather finally cleared and the officials both muggle and magical alike were able to move in. It was soon found to be a blood bath. Every person and animal in the neighborhood had been killed. Eyes burned from their sockets. Among the dead, I am sorry to say exists one of our own. A squib, true. But our own none the less. Arabella Figg merlin rest her soul. _

_Only one survivor was found. A child with uncontrollable black hair, enchanting green eyes and a lightning bolt shaped scar upon his forehead. You guessed it my dear readers. Harry Potter! Our Savior! The muggles unfortunately got to him first. Our ministry men believed that he would be safe with them for the time being. They were collecting evidence on what transpired there under many enchantments. And what they found, dear readers! Oh what they found! Abuse! Yes you read that right. Our savior, dear readers was abused! It is theorized that Mr. Potter's magic lashed out in an effort to protect himself from the people that Dumbledore swore to us would love him! _

_Dumbledore said he was safe! He said there were wards to protect him! That no harm could come to him! He said no dark creatures or dark affiliated beings could get to him! Well I am here to tell you today, dear readers, that he LIED! We trusted him! Not only did the family abuse him but he was attacked by not one but two dark creatures. Spirited away by the second. One has to wonder what else Dumbledore has lied about. What other secrets has he hidden behind that grandfatherly persona? Well we were fooled once. But I for one, dear readers, say NO MORE! I only hope our beloved ministry can find Mr. Potter before it's too late. _

London General Hospital

ICU 2nd floor Head Trauma

Rufus Turner groaned as he came to. The scent of sterilizer and the constant beeping alerting him to his location. He twitched his arm and felt resistance. The sound of a drip reached his ears as well as the sounds of distress in the distance. Prying his eyes open was a chore in and of itself. Each felt like they had been cemented in thick gorilla glue. Peeling away like the tearing of a band-aide. Hurting like a bitch too.

When dark eyes finally opened to a boringly white checkered bored ceiling, Rufus was ready for a tall one. Sitting up gingerly, being inordinately careful not to jostle anything, he swept his eyes over the room. A window overlooked the busy street below behind him. An IV was attached to his arm, a heart monitor attached to his pointer finger. He grimaced and continued his perusal of the room. A TV was in the corner of the ceiling on his left above a door that he assumed led to the hallway. Another door was directly next to it slightly ajar, revealing a standard hospital bathroom. Complete with guard railings so patients didn't fall.

Thick sheets lay atop him to keep him warm, an ugly brown color. Washed out from many uses no doubt. Rufus didn't want to think on how many people's bodily fluids the sheets had seen. Carefully moving every part of his body, Rufus took stock of any injuries and was surprised to find only a slight bump on his head. He furrowed his brow in confusion, his fingers tracing over the bump. Trying to remember what happened to bring him there. When he thought back, all he could recall were blurry shapes. Suddenly, majestic birdsong drifted over his memory, bringing the images into focus.

Demons. He had been nearly killed by that black eyed bastard, then the child had done something. He could remember gentle fingers caressing his forehead and then warmth had seeped into his bones stealing the pain away. Shortly after that he had been bitch slapped by that red eyed prick. Rufus rubbed his head. A man in a ridiculous get up had appeared after that, but he was so out of it by that time he could barely remember any details. Shaking his head to dispel the images, he slid his legs over the side of the bed. Frowning when he realized he was wearing a paper thin hospital gown, his ass on display for all to see. His eyes roved over the room in a panic searching desperately for something to cover himself in. Eyes settling on a pair of scrubs neatly folded on the end of his bed.

Slipping them on he stood, shivering slightly when his bare feet came in to contact with the cold floor. Shuffling to the door he peered out into the hall, noting the frenzied hospital staff. Though with what had happened that day or November 3rd anyway, he wasn't sure how long he had been out, he wasn't surprised. Taking a breath, he walked confidently up to the nurses' station. Or as confident as one can be in a hospital gown and scrubs. Clearing his throat to gather the attention of a pretty brunette, he inquired where the other men he was with had been put. Pointing to the hallway to his right. She informed him they were at the end of the hall. Her attention was called back to the other end of the phone conversation she was having. Making a vague shooing gesture with her hand in the direction he was to go, Rufus started walking.

Coming up to a door at the end of the hall, he peered inside to see the man the black eyed demon possessed. He was awake and talking rapidly to Captain Bandello who was sitting in a chair to his right. Bobby and Jim were standing on his other side expressions grim. Opening the door, he heard the tail end of the conversation as he walked in. Shutting the door behind him.

"…I am telling you it wasn't me, Captain! I would never harm a child like that, or hurt you in any way!" Strider pleaded.

"Oh so you expect me to believe it was your evil twin brother perhaps?" Bandello asked sardonically.

"What? No!" Strider protested.

"It was a demon." Rufus said quietly as he joined them. Pulling up a seat and plopping down with a sigh. Bandello did a strange impression of a fish. "They possess you, wear you like you're the next Prada and fight over your meat suit like a pack of wild hyenas once they've caught you. Strider should count himself lucky. We all should. Not many who go against hell spawn survive." He continued. Bobby and Jim made sounds of agreement. Giving him nods in acknowledgment. Jim crossing himself silently.

"D-Demon. That couldn't…" Bandello denied.

"Yes, demon. The sooner you get that in your thick scull, the sooner we can get ta lookin for the kid, ya idjit!" Bobby raged. His eyes simmering in anger. Never had he felt so useless aside from the time his wife died. "That red eyed bastard took him. I for one am not going to rest until that boy is safe from t-that monster." He choked out. His eyes tearing a bit. Rufus reached over to give his arm a reassuring squeeze. Jim placing his left hand on Bobby's shoulder. He couldn't believe he had failed a child. He was right there, he could have done something. Anything. He failed him. They all had.

"How do we even begin to look for a demon? Where do we even start?" Jim wondered aloud. Bandello only shook his head. Strider's eyes got a determined gleam in them.

"The magicals might know." Rufus, Bobby and Jim stiffened.

"Magicals. You want us to enlist the help of deal witches?!" Jim nearly shouted in outrage. "Thou shall not suffer a witch to live!"

"Deal witches?" Questioned Bandello.

"People who sell their souls to demons for magic." Rufus replied grimly. Bandello shot Strider a look of disbelief. Strider shook his head in denial.

"No! Not deal witches. Wizards and witches who were born with magic." Strider exclaimed.

"Wait, you mean like wand waving, hat wearing broom riding, wizards? Like out of a fantasy book?" Bobby asked incredulously. Strider nodded his head.

"Yes! Natural born magic users." Strider agreed.

"They're real?" Rufus asked stupidly. All of their expressions in shock, mouths gaping.

"Yes. Didn't you see that man wearing a robe, wave around a stick back at the precinct? He was trying to erase our memories of what happened. But obviously, it didn't work. Whatever the kid did to us when he healed us must have protected us from the man's magic." Strider explained.

"Why would he be trying to erase our memories in the first place?" Bandello inquired.

"Because of the Statue of Secrecy. The child is obviously magical. He saved me from the thing that was inside of me and what happened on Privet Drive was certainly magical. Magical society keeps separate from the non-magical world. Anytime magic is revealed to non magicals, a team is sent out to alter the memories. This, as I have been told, is to prevent the witch trials from happening all over again." Strider revealed.

Rubbing his chin in thought, Pastor Jim opened his mouth to ask, "How do you know all this anyway?"

"My wife is a squib." At their confused looks strider elaborated. "Someone born from two magical parents who has magic but can't use it themselves." Understanding dawned on their faces.

"Oh. Well. Then that is where we will start looking. Now, how does one find a secret society that its people don't want us to be finding?" Asked Bandello.


	7. Chapter 7

A/N Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor do I own Supernatural. I am just a die hard fan:) Happy reading

Oh Please check out my other stories "Bond of the Soul" and "Oceans Deep."

Bond of the Soul is a time travel fic where Harry goes back in time to the tri-wizard tournament. It is a FemHarry/Tom pairing Prologue and chapter 1 and 2 posted

Oceans Deep is a crossover with the Argeneau series. The Argeneau series is a vampire series by Lindsey Sands. The vampires were made immortal by science(nano technology) and are descendants of Atlantis. There will be a pairing with Harry in the story. But it won't happen for a while. Hope you check it out and review. Prologue and Chapter 1 posted.

Please Review! I read all of them, thank you to everyone who has already:) Please fan and follow! And check out my other stories!

A/N2: Hey! Another chapter of Faith in two days! WOO! Well I thought I would answer a review by Kat1316. She had posed two questions that I thought many of you were probably thinking. So let me break it down for you. She asked if there would be any time skips and if Harry would go to Hogwarts. In regards to the first question. Yes there will be. However, I am laying down the puzzle pieces and foundations of the story. Certain events need to take place, things/events you need to know about before you get the whole enchilada. Just the other day I woke up with five different scenes that take place long into the future in my head.

I also had the ending of this fic in my head before I even started it. I was feeling a bit overwhelmed when those scenes popped in my head because of how freaking long it is going to take to get there. I was all like HOLY CRAP BATMAN THIS IS GOING TO BE SO FREAKING LONG! Then proceeded to bang my head into the pillow screaming WHY?! in my head. But I digress. *Spoiler alert* The main chunk of the story will happen in Supernatural Cannon. This story will extend all the way to the Apocalypse arc...maybe even further...and yes Harry does go to Hogwarts.

Some of you might have also been confused at the way I wrote the last chapter, one pointing out that they had seemed to recognize the red eyed demon before, but now they don't seem to. But no they didn't. They assumed he was a hunter, when he covered for them at the station. Also the last chapter was in Rufus' point of view which is why everyone's real names are coming to light. Bandello and Strider still believe the two are from Interpol...right now anyway. Wasn't really happy with the last chapter but moving on...(=_=)

Enough with the A/N...lol

Now onward to Chapter 6! Enjoy!

~Shannon~

**_Enochian thought_**

**_"Enochian speech"_**

_Thought/Dreams_

**Beast tongue**

**Dean Winchester is born January 24 1979**

**Harry Potter is born July 31st 1980**

**Sam Winchester is born May 2nd 1983**

**November 2nd 1983 Mary Winchester dies**

Chapter 6

**_BEHOLD, HE IS COMING WITH THE CLOUDS, and every eye will see Him, even those who pierced Him; and all the tribes of the earth will mourn over Him. So it is to be. Amen_**

_**~Revelations 1:7~**_

_A man was running on swift legs. Wind blowing his brown hair and short beard wildly. Dirty camo paints whipping around his thighs as he pumped his limbs as hard as he could. Sweat chilled his neck as panicked breaths racked his torso. Ripped shirt beating against his back. He leapt over the hood of a car. Using his hand to spring him over. Landing on unsteady feet. Running again, hopping over the rotting corpses in the road. A mob of mindless people pursued him as he wove his way through buildings. Bodies decaying, eyes rolled in back of heads, spittle dripping down chins, and hands holding weapons in white knuckled grips. A bag of supplies smacking his leg with each stride. He glanced over his shoulder as he passed a ransacked grocery store. Glass littering the street. Crunching underfoot as he passed. He winced but didn't slow as one sharp piece dug through the sole of his foot. _

_Buildings abandoned, cars turned over, doors opened and belongings left to wither in the middle of the road. Signs for evacuation on billboards, TVs giving off nothing but white noise. The man could see a black cloud in the distance. He picked up his pace, ignoring his injured foot, his life depended on it. He raced through the lifeless city, praying he made it to the checkpoint. He had thought he had enough time to brave the inner part of the city before the infected showed. He was wrong. They had been hiding in the sewers waiting for their next victim to add to their ranks. _

_He was almost there, only two more blocks to go. He turned a corner sharply, he could hear the snarling of the diseased behind him. Hot breath at his neck, nails just barely close enough to graze his skin. He refused to let them get him. Jumping over a downed trash can, pushing carts and throwing any loose item around him behind to slow them down. He was almost there. Just a little more. He let out a triumphant shout at seeing a familiar head of dirty blonde hair in a military cut in the distance. The head turned toward him and gave a shout._

_ "__CHUCK GET DOWN!" He called._

_Chuck dove behind a car as a hail of bullets cascaded over the mob behind him. Keeping low do the ground he made quick work to cover the ground between him and his friend. As a blonde woman cackled, pulling the tab off a grenade and throwing it at his pursuers. An explosion rocked the street, Chuck could feel the vibrations in the ground, through his feet. _

_"__Come on boys! Dean! Chuck! Jo! Get in!" A middle aged woman screamed as an RV dragged across the pavement. Swerving to a stop in front of them. Grabbing there bags of weapons they jumped in. Racing down the road, they all breathed a sigh of relief when they lost them. Only to stiffen as a giant black cloud descended on them. Jugs of holy water were tossed into the swarm and Chuck took aim. He fired, inhuman shrieks pierced the air. But it wasn't enough, the black miasma rammed into the car. Flipping it over, its occupants screaming. Rolling to a stop on its head. Chuck called out to see if his friends were alright. It was silent. Struggling out beneath the vehicle, he crawled on hands and knees. Gravel digging into palms as he emerged into open air. A pair of feet were the first thing his eyes landed on when he came out into the street. He followed the feet up to long legs, up a strong torso to a pair of burning yellow eyes._

_"__It's coming!" Then the beast in human flesh threw his head back and laughed. The black cloud attacking Chuck's body. Acid eating away at his skin. Chuck screamed. _

"Chuck! Chuck! Wake up baby! Wake up!" A woman with long black hair shook the small writhing body of a little boy. The child was sweating profusely, batman pajamas plastered to his small form. Dark eyes blinked open, a mass of curly brown hair slick against his forehead. Upon focusing his young eyes on the woman, the child threw himself into her arms and started crying. Superhero bed sheets bunching around his legs. The fair skinned woman rocked the boy back and forth, humming under her breath to calm him. The little boy repeating a single sentence over and over through his sobs.

"It's coming mama, it's coming." The woman could do nothing but rock her son as he cried into the night.

**London General Hospital**

Bobby Singer stood out in the hall outside of Officer Strider's room nursing a cup of coffee. He wore a dark pair of slacks and a white shirt. Thinking over what he learned and events leading up to where he was. Jim had called him after he had already been in London pursuing a lead to the yellow eyed demon for John. There had been a case of a burned down house in Godric's Hollow back in 1980. John had believed the demon was broadening his horizons but was unable to go sniff around for clues due to having to look out for his kids.

He had asked Bobby to go looking and since he had nothing better to do, he said he would. Being that he didn't want to go alone, he asked Rufus to come along as back up. It was only a week later that he discovered an international retreat of priests and pastors from around the world here in London. Lo and behold, Jim a fellow hunter was there. Catching up with him and discussing his thoughts on the yellow eyes' lead, they promised to get in touch should anything strange come up. A few days later, the massacre at Privet Drive was discovered and Jim had called them in. He told them that the police had gone to the local churches but none of the priests wanted to deal with the case.

Stating that the child was devil spawn. When they heard this the officials went to the retreat to ask a party who could look at the case objectively to help. Jim jumped at the chance. Claiming he wasn't much for rest when someone was in need of his help especially a child. Then they had all met the boy and the impossible happened. Before Bobby's own eyes and demon was killed. For the very first time in history, at least to his knowledge.

Disbelief still filled him. Add to that the vision he had when the child healed him, well he didn't think it was the work of hell spawn that was for sure. Bobby didn't know what to think. All he knew was he had just laid there when that red eyed demon made a deal with the child and took him away. He had to find a way to save him. At first Bobby had believed McLeod was a fellow hunter, demons aren't known for speaking the language of angels…at least Bobby had never heard it before. He should have seen it. He had seen the red sheen to his eyes but had written it off for a trick of the light.

It was a mistake that he would beat himself up over for a long time yet. Glancing through the window to the black haired Strider, Bobby vowed to find the child. Even if it meant working with witches. Whether they are natural born magic users or deal witches remains to be seen. But he would find the boy, no matter how long it takes. Finishing off the last of his coffee, he walked down the hall to the nurses' station, tossing the empty cup in the trash bin behind the desk. The brunette giving him a dirty look. He shrugged unapologetic. Turning back down the hall and he strode to the door. Turning the knob, perhaps Striders squib wife could help them find the magic users, he walked into the room.

**The Virgin Komi Forests**

**Ural Mountains, Russia**

Ascha, as the child was now called, wiggled his toes in the cool water as he sat at the lakes shore. Trees rose up on both sides of the lake, a forest towering behind him, mountains rising in the distance. Night had fallen, the moon illuminating the ridges of land on the horizon. McLeod sat gingerly next to Ascha, his body stiff. Glancing at the child next to him, who was humming happily beneath his breath, the demon sighed. Agitation causing his hands to shake and shiver. He swallowed, briefly wondering about his sanity. Thinking back to when that heavy power had filled the room back at the station, he wondered what it was.

That power had been cosmic, so full of rage, a writhing mass of righteous judgment. It seared his bones and he had felt a shame so deep he felt he should plaster himself to the ground before it. Unworthy to even gaze upon the child. That power, the child was a ticking time bomb. His very voice, like a hungry mob, all shouting to be heard. It shook the very earth and shattered anything within its range. It had ruptured his eardrums when he heard it. He could feel his brain start to melt from its onslaught, his hold on his body diminishing. Fear had taken hold of him then, of what, he didn't know. Perhaps an end to his existence. Or to be sentenced to suffer in hell, as he had in the beginning.

Ascha Nanaeel. A powerful name. For a powerful child. Is it arrogance? To claim to be the voice of God? Or God's power? Or perhaps the child was so devoted to God that he had chosen the name to be closer to Him. The child covets that cross of his strongly enough. Or is the child's power truly a gift from the creator? McLeod didn't know. He had stopped believing in God a long time ago. Especially since in all the time he had been a demon he had never seen proof of an existence other than hell.

No angels coming down in righteous fury to smite him for his evil deeds. No acts of God rising up in human defense. No. If there was a God, he had abandoned humanity a long time ago. At least that is what he used to think. It is why he had sold his soul to a demon in the first place. He figured if he was going to hell anyway, he might as well get something out of it. A few more inches, he considered was a good enough trade.

Perhaps had he met the child when he had been alive? He shook his head. Pointing up at the thousand balls of light up in the dark sky, calling the little one's attention. Glancing up curiously at what he the dark one was pointing at, Ascha tilted his head. Mouth parted in delight as black hair drifted in the cool breeze.

_**"**__**See those lights up in the sky Ascha? Those are called stars. **_Stars. _**Now repeat it with me. **_Stars." McLeod said patiently. Ascha laughed. Slowly sounding out the word on his tongue. The ground barelygiving off any vibration as he spoke his first word in English.

"Stars." Ascha repeated excitedly.

"_**Very good. Now the word for the sky is…"**_ And the two of them, demon and child continued in this fashion long into the night.


	8. Chapter 8

A/N Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor do I own Supernatural. I am just a die hard fan:) Happy reading

Oh Please check out my other stories "Bond of the Soul" and "Oceans Deep."

Bond of the Soul is a time travel fic where Harry goes back in time to the tri-wizard tournament. It is a FemHarry/Tom pairing Prologue and chapter 1 and 2 posted

Oceans Deep is a crossover with the Argeneau series. The Argeneau series is a vampire series by Lindsey Sands. The vampires were made immortal by science(nano technology) and are descendants of Atlantis. There will be a pairing with Harry in the story. But it won't happen for a while. Hope you check it out and review. Prologue and Chapter 1 posted.

Please Review! I read all of them, thank you to everyone who has already:) Please fan and follow! And check out my other stories!

A/N2 3rd chapter in two days! I'm on a roll! lol ^_^

Another reader asked if there would be any pairings. Well there might be, but Harry will not be having a pairing. Just letting you all know. This story will also have no slash between any of the Winchesters or Harry...there might be some jokes in the story about it. But NO Harry/Dean/Sam pairings. NOR any combination of that. If there is any slash it will not be with any of the main characters. Mainly because romance is not the focal point of the story.

To all of you slash fans sorry. I have nothing against the genre. In fact if you went to my fav/story list you would have all the evidence you need that I read it. But I have never written it. And slash would just take away from the story for where I have this planned on going. Now when we get to later on in the story, where the boys are adults, if anyone wants to write a side fic with slash or straight romance. By all means. Just run it by me first. I'll post the link to the story on my profile and give you the go ahead. Just be sure to credit me for basing it off my story. I would love to read those.

Anyway onward to the chapter:)

Happy reading!

~Shannon~

**_Enochian thought_**

**_"Enochian speech"_**

_Thought/Dreams_

**Beast tongue**

**Dean Winchester is born January 24 1979**

**Harry Potter is born July 31st 1980**

**Sam Winchester is born May 2nd 1983**

**November 2nd 1983 Mary Winchester dies**

Chapter 7

**_Repent ye therefore, and be converted, that your sins may be blotted out, when the times of refreshing shall come from the presence of the Lord_**

_Acts_**_3:19_******

**Kripke's Hollow, USA**

**Kripke Elementary**

The sun was shining brightly upon cherub like faces that were pulled into looks of concentration, as Mrs. Hailey's third grade art class were busy imitating their inner Picasso. The room was alight in a soft glow of natural light, walls covered in different drawings. Shelves of various art supplies lined the walls and a window stretched out along the west wall opposite the door.

Four by four tables dotted the room. Six total with twenty two students in the class roster. Only twenty one students were present that day. The teacher, Mrs. Hailey, walked around the classroom. Giving little encouraging comments to each child she past. The drawings were primitive at best, being that it was a group of eight to nine year olds that were drawing. All except for one. A child wearing a batman t-shirt and jeans sat alone at a table in the back of the classroom. A basket of crayons sat in front of him.

The child was roughly smacking the crayons on the paper, sounding out a rhythm similar to Morse code. Where the other children gently drew with the crayons, this child was hitting the paper repeatedly in hard taps with such force it rocked his small body. Every once and awhile a small head would glance in the child's direction.

Then they would soon lose interest and go back to their own work. Mrs. Hailey, believing the child to be distracting his fellow students, slowly made her way towards the child. As she walked over, she could see many different crayons scattered about the table in careless heaps. Whites, blacks, greens, greys and browns. The child reached for a soft yellow as she neared him.

The crayon receiving the same treatment as the rest. She was about to reprimand him, when she arrived at his table. She sucked in a breath. There staring back at her from the paper was a crude outline of a beautiful black haired man. Wings stretching out across a desolate cityscape. Sun illuminating feathers in a golden hue and the most amazing green eyes that bored into her own amazingly life like. The brown haired child was dotting out the shape of a lightning bolt upon the man's forehead. Mrs. Hailey crouched down.

"That's beautiful Chuck. Who is this supposed to be?" She asked in awe.

"My hero." Answers a melodic voice.

"Your hero? Like batman?" Mrs. Hailey laughs. Chuck nods as he sticks his tongue out in concentration. Making the hits on the paper a bit harder than before.

"He's going to save us all." A smile spreads across the teachers face as she watches him.

"Is he now? Where did you get that idea from?" She asks with a chuckle.

"I saw it in a dream." Chuck glances at the teacher from the corner of his eye.

"That's nice dear." She says as she ruffles the child's curly locks. She turns to walk away, Chuck frowning calls after her.

"Don't take the train home today Mrs. Hailey." The teacher freezes, her head whipping around to stare at the little boy. She hesitates, then asks.

"Why? What's going to happen on the train?" Chuck swallows and explains quietly.

"The sky will rain fire and many people will die." Alarmed, Mrs. Hailey walks briskly to the child and squats down.

"Chuck! Don't say things like that! Nothing is going to happen to the train." She says firmly. Chuck panics and shakes his head.

"No! It's true! I saw it! I saw it in a dream!" He said desperately trying to make her see. Mrs. Hailey grabbed Chuck gently by the shoulders. Eyes boring into his.

"Chuck, dreams are just that. Dreams. They're not real. Nothing is going to happen to me or to the train. Nothing. You just had a nightmare. It's not real. I am going to call your mother to let her know you aren't feeling good. Perhaps you are coming down with something if you are having such morbid dreams." The teacher declared placing her hand to the boy's forehead. Standing up she turned to walk away.

"Your baby dies. I saw it. You had red spreading over your tummy and you were crying. Saying not my baby. Not my baby. Then fire rained down on you. I woke up after that and my bed was smoking." Chuck whispered. Tears gathered in the corners of his eyes.

Mrs. Hailey turned around to look at the child in horror. She stared at the boy in disbelief. Her hand resting on her stomach. She back away from him on shaky legs. "Don't take the train." Chuck repeated. Mrs. Hailey turned and fled from the room, collapsing in the hall. Vomiting on the laminate flooring. The children's cries calling out to her. Icy fear shot down her spine. For she was three weeks pregnant and she had not told a soul.

**Greenwood Diner**

**Green wood, Mississippi**

The restaurant was busy, waiters and waitresses scurrying around table to table taking orders. Calls of order up filled the room. Smells of fresh coffee and food permeated the air. Up in the corner of the ceiling, a television silently played the new station, a train caught in a collision with a car the day before. Exploding. Ninety people found dead. Forty injured. Seventeen still missing. A middle aged, gruff man sat in a booth at Greenwood diner, home of the best Apple Pie.

A newspaper spread out before him, a thick journal to his right, and a steaming mug of coffee above it. Two children ages 5 and 9 sat in front of him chowing down on a stack of pancakes. The older of the two staring hungrily at the picture of apple pie in the window as he put the fork of food in his mouth. He swallowed. Dirty blonde hair framing his hazel eyes. He glanced at the man in front of him as he drowned his plate in syrup.

"Hey Dad. Can we g…"

"No." The man said without looking up.

"Just a sli…"

"No." The man repeated as he took a sip of coffee, sighing softly.

"Come on Sammy help me ou…"

"No Dean and that's final." Said the man, glancing up at the child sternly beneath his brow.

"But Dad! It's pie! PIE! The gift of the gods! Not just any Pie. Only the BEST APPLE PIE IN THE WORLD!" Dean declared making large hand motions. Hands almost smacking his little brother who was giggling hysterically at his brother's antics. John Winchester cracked a smile. His eyes lit up in fond amusement before his expression became stern again as he saw the child had gathered the attention of the restaurant.

"No Dean." The child huffed, sulking. Bottom lip put out in a pout as he took another bite of his breakfast. Sammy smiled a toothy grin at his brother. Brown eyes glinting in amusement, pearly teeth shining. Dean stuck out his tongue at the boy in annoyance. Sammy huffed and turned to his father.

"Dad? When's Uncle Bobby coming back?" He asked in his best innocent voice.

"In a couple of weeks, he has some things to take care of in London first." John answered gruffly.

"Oh. So what are we gonna do til then?" Dean asked around a mouth full of pancake. Syrup dripping down his chin. Sammy gagged from the corner of his eyes. Dean grinned at him, cheeks puffed up like a chipmunk.

"You two will be going to school for a bit here while I take care of some things in town." Dean translated that in his head. _You'll be out of the way while I go on a hunt. _Dean sighed. Sammy glanced at his brother out of the corner of his eye, seeing his down expression he widened his eyes. Widening them enough so they started to tear a bit, scrunching his eyebrows, he stared at his father. Opening his mouth he asked in a wobbly voice.

"So…Pie?" He asked hopefully. Staring at his father. John Winchester sighed.

"How many times do I have to say it? I already told your brother no Sammy. No means n…." He cut off as he glanced up, locking eyes with his youngest son. As he watched tears started to build in his eyes. He panicked, but tried to keep stern. They stared at each other not blinking for a full minute. Until John blinked, slumping in his seat he rubbed his face. Catching the trembling of a bottom lip through his parted fingers.

"Fine." He sighed out. Sammy smirked and put his hand underneath the table. Dean silently pressing a quarter into his palm. Sammy 28: Dad: 0.

"Yeah Pie!" Dean shouted. Eyes laughing. Inwardly he cackled. No one could say no to Sammy's puppy face.

**The Virgin Komi Forests**

**Ural Mountains, Russia**

Ascha blinked his eyes open sleepily. Enchanting green gazing up at the lightning blue above him. A beautiful trilling sounded somewhere close to his head. Something combing gently through his hair. Water lapped at his feet, he splayed his fingers in the dirt, his treasure pressing into his palm. Calmly he breathed as he felt for the wrongness in the air. The dark one was off somewhere in the trees behind him.

Ascha smiled as he basked in the peacefulness around him. He could feel so much life surrounding him. A blazing star perched by his head. Tears gathered in his eyes, sliding down his cheeks at its beauty. He didn't want to break the moment. But the shining life force must have sensed his waking for the soft carding of his hair stopped. A soft questioning trill was directed at him. The whispers forming it into words.

**I know you're awake hatchling. **

Ascha sat up to look at the brilliant life that spoke. His mouth opened in wonder as he gazed upon the creature. A magnificent bird stood proudly where his head had been. A nest of ash around his feet. A long burning red feathered tail stretched out behind him, a red, golden black comb standing atop his head. Red burnished plumage cascading down his back that glowed gold in the sun light. Wind tousled its feathers. Creating the illusion of flickering flames.

**So beautiful. **Harry breathed out. The creature preened at the praise. Puffing out its chest.

**Thank you hatchling. I am Fawkes. **The being trilled.

**Fawkes. That's a pretty name. **Ascha said bashfully. Looking up at the pretty bird through his lashes. Hans folded over his treasure.

**Why thank you. **Fawkes cooed.

**I've never seen your kind before. **Ascha declared, puffing out his cheeks, eyes shining in delight.

**Of course not hatchling. I am a Phoenix and my kind generally don't show themselves to non-magicals. **The bird sung out.

**Oh. **Ascha's head fell in disappointment. Toes pressing into dirt.

**Do not be upset hatchling I won't leave.** The Phoenix sang.

**You. You'll stay with me? **The dark haired boy asked hopefully.

**Yes. **Fawkes agreed.

**Why? No one ever wants to be around me. I'm a freak. **Ascha exclaimed sad.

**No you are not a freak. If you are a freak, then so too am I. Do you think I am a Freak?** Fawkes spoke out firmly.

**NO! **Ascha denied horrified. How could this magnificent creature be a freak?

**Then you are not a freak. **Ascha scrunched his face up in confusion.

**Why would you be a freak if I was one?** The child asked. Cross digging into soft flesh.

**Because hatchling, we are two pieces of a whole. **Ascha widened his eyes in surprise. Tilting his head in curiosity, he asked.

**What do you mean? **Eyes wide in question.

**Don't you worry about that now, hatchling. You will understand in time. Come, I sense your companion returning. **The bird cooed out. Flapping its large wings it took flight to settle on Ascha's white robed shoulder. Revealing the dark one emerging from the depths of the forest. His clothes were askew, suit jacket ties about his waist, leaves tangled in wind swept hair.

He was carrying an armful of thick logs. Upon seeing the child, red eyes widened and he gave a surprised shout. Dropping the logs, one landed on his foot. A slew of words flew from his mouth in angry mutters as he hopped on one foot in the clearing. Ascha blinking in astonishment. His eyes followed his every move. Wondering what the words meant, he proceeded to try to sound them out.

"Blllloooddyyy…Chiickeeeeen….appeaaarrr-i-ing ou—ttt ov fu…" The darkone shouted. Running to Ascha waving his hands, hopping on one foot made for a comical site as he was saying something to the child in English. At Ascha's blank look he repeated himself.

"Oh for the love of…**_stop. Don't repeat those words. They're bad. _**Bad.**_"_**

"**_Bad?_**Bad?" The child asked head tilted to the side. Black hair falling over the lightning bolt scar, the Phoenix copied his expression. Tilting his head, feathers glowing in the sun. The dark one rose his eyebrows in surprise.

"**_Yes Bad. Now where did the chicken come from?"_** The dark one asked. Fawkes bristled his feathers, squawking in annoyance.

**_"_****_Oh! Fawkes was here when I woke up! He said he is going to stay with me! Isn't that great!" _**Ascha said excitedly, oblivious to his feathered friend's reaction, eyes burning in happiness. He threw up his hands in exclamation.

**_"_****_Yeah, great."_** The dark one muttered as he eyed the new development in suspicion. Shaking his head, he rubbed his foot, lips pursed. Scowling he glared at the bird and started picking up the logs. The child had been shivering in the night for the last couple of days. He would have to find some extra clothing for the kid. A wet robe just wasn't going to cut it. Neither would the dirty jacket he wore. The logs should be enough to keep the child warm that night, but it was only a temporary solution.

The dark one, eyed the child from the corner of his eye. Ascha trilling away at the red feathered menace. Bird calls exchanged back and forth. It seemed another ability had cropped up. Something else for him to train. Looking out into the lake, he thought about what he would feed the child. He had given him berries he found in the forest that he tested to make sure were safe. But that wouldn't hold for long. Perhaps the water would yield out some fish. So distracted by his planning, he failed to realize he was worrying about another's wellbeing.


	9. Chapter 9

A/N Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor do I own Supernatural. I am just a die hard fan:) Happy reading!

Please check out my other stories! Read, Review and fan/favorite:) Thank you!

Please Review! I read all of them, thank you to everyone who has already:) Please fan and follow!

**_Enochian thought_**

**_"Enochian speech"_**

_Thought_

**Beast tongue**

**Dean Winchester is born January 24 1979**

**Harry Potter is born July 31st 1980**

**Sam Winchester is born May 2nd 1983**

**Chuck Shurley is born July 30th 1980 (This is for the sake of the story as it was never detailed how old he was in cannon)**

**November 2nd 1983 Mary Winchester dies**

Chapter 8

_**Dream lofty dreams, and as you dream, so shall you become. Your vision is the promise of what you shall one day be; your ideal is the prophecy of what you shall at last unveil.**_

_**~James Allen~**_

**Kripke's Hollow, USA**

**Kripke Elementary**

Light cascaded across empty tables in the early morning. At each table a stack of four packs of colored pencils sat. Shelves of art supplies lined the walls, alight in the soft luminous rays of the sun. A woman, Hailey Bay, stood at the window that stretched across the west wall, back facing the door as she took a sip of a steaming cup of coffee. One hand resting on her stomach. Hair like spun gold fell in curly spirals down her back, blue eyes watching as the sun slowly rose into the sky. Her tanned skin glowed bronze in the dawn.

Wearing black slacks and a white button down shirt that stretched over her shoulders, she turned on her black flats and walked toward her desk. Composition notebooks were stacked precariously on the right side of her pine wood desk. Pulling out the expresso colored leather chair, she perched on the end of the seat. Placing her flowered ceramic mug of steaming coffee on the coaster by her cup of pens at the top left of her desk, she glanced at the morning's newspaper that sat in front of her. Her face was awash in emotions, eyes glued to the photograph that was splashed across the front page. The headline still made her tremble in disbelief and fear.

**"****SKY RAINS FIRE! TRAIN COLLIDES WITH VEHICLE!"**

The knowledge that she could have been on that train that day, could have lost her unborn child, left a nasty taste in her mouth. She had taken little Chuck's advice three days before and had a coworker drive her to her apartment. Sure enough, the child's prediction came true. The media was still talking about it. When Hailey found out about the train crash, she had gone straight to church and prayed. Thanking God for being alive. She still couldn't believe it. Chuck had said he dreamed the crash, but if he predicted the event, would he predict something else? This thought led to the new project she was going to have her class undertake. Cocking her head to the side, she picked up the newspaper and put it in the desk drawer as she heard the pitter patter of little feet approaching. The door to the classroom opened and her students filed in. Each smiling at her and bidding her good morning. Little Chuck was the last to find his seat at the back of the classroom. A young girl sitting across him. Both reached for a pack of coloring pencils. Eyeing Mrs. Hailey curiously. Chuck still seemed to be in awe that she was still breathing. Standing Hailey walked to the front of the classroom.

"Good morning class!" She called out exuberantly.

"Good morning Mrs. Hailey!" They replied. Mrs. Hailey picked up a composition book and held it up for the class to see.

"Today we are going to start a new project. Each of you will get a composition notebook. You are to take it home and when you wake each morning you are to write down what you dreamed about. Then when you come to class you are to draw something from that dream. If you look on the table, there is a pile of colored pencil packs. Each of you will take one home with you to use for this dream journal. I will collect your journals at the end of every week on Friday and return them Monday. I call this the dream project and we will be doing this for the rest of the year."

The class became excited at the prospect. All except for one little boy. Chuck slid down in his seat as Mrs. Hailey began to pass out the composition books. When she neared him, she placed her hand on his shoulder and gave him a reassuring squeeze. Chuck looked up into Mrs. Hailey's ocean blue, his eyes wide in fear. Mrs. Hailey smiled, her eyes softening.

"This project is to thank you for saving me." Mrs. Hailey whispered quietly. Her grin widening as surprise flashed across Chuck's face. Chuck's table neighbor looked at him curiously as the teacher placed a notebook in front of her. Sighing as Mrs. Hailey finished passing out the books, she clapped her hands to get her excited students attention.

"All right class, now that you have your books, you can start your first journal entry. I want one person from your table to go to the supply shelf and get paper for your tables. Then write what you dreamed about last night. Then you are to draw something from that dream on the sheet of paper using the colored pencils. Begin." Mrs. Hailey instructed and the students scrambled to obey. Mrs. Hailey's eyes strayed back to Chuck. Only time would tell if Chuck would predict anything else. She would just have to wait and see.

**British Auror Office**

A smartly dressed woman walked briskly through the throngs of flying missives that darted about in the walkway. Her dark purple robes billowing behind her as she headed for her destination. Dozens of Aurors ran past her as she walked. Each with a determined air about them. Amelia Bones sighed as she came to an open room where many desks filled the area. Walking with a no nonsense gait to a door with her name on it, she pushed it open. A man with shaggy brown hair, tattered robes and amber eyes stood up from the chair he had sat in as she opened the door. Closing the door, Amelia walked around her desk and sat down. The office was large, a floor to ceiling window giving a marvelous view of Diagon Alley. Candles floated along the walls, dark wood shelves reached the ceiling filled to the brim with books behind the cherry wood desk.

Placing the file she was clutching in her arms on the desk, she conjured two cups of tea and floated one to the nervous man that now sat before her. Opening the file of one Harry James Potter, the Head Auror took a sip of tea to calm her nerves. Sitting back in the chair, she sighed and looked at the man in front of her. Dark eyes locking with amber.

"Hello Mr. Lupin, it's been awhile." She started.

"Madam Bones." Remus Lupin nodded to the head Auror in acknowledgement.

"I assume you are here in regards to the missing Potter heir. It says here that you applied for guardianship seven times? It appears that Dumbledore blocked you on every turn." Auror Bones stated as she observed the man. Remus shivered, his amber eyes flashing as he grit his teeth. Taking a sip of tea to calm himself, his hands clutching the china in a white knuckled grip.

"Yes, he is the son of one of my best friends. James and Lily told me that if anything happened to them that their son should first go to Sirius, but if he couldn't take care of him then he should go to me. Since Sirius is a traitor and in Askaban, his guardianship should go to me. It should be in the will they left, but the goblins said that Dumbledore sealed the will shortly after they died. I tried to get custody. Now because of that bastard my cub is missing!" Remus growled through clenched teeth. The tea cup shattered in Lupin's grip instantly calming him. Amelia vanished the tea and china shards with a wave of her wand and a few mumbled words.

"Peace Mr. Lupin. We are doing everything we can to find young Mr. Potter. If all else fails we will have to rely on the magic of the Hogwarts charter. But we will find him. Of that I promise you. I will not rest until he is found. In regards to Sirius Black, we cannot be sure of his guilt just yet. Dumbledore has a lot to answer for. I am in the process of going over all the decisions he has made, every bill and law he past, and thing he has done since the defeat of you-know-who.

I need to be sure that everything matches up. Already I have found an alarming amount of individuals who were persecuted in 1981 that either had no evidence to their incarceration or they had no trial. Your former friend Sirius Black was one of them. I do not wish to give you hope of his innocence, but he will be given a trial with the truth serum to be sure of his guilt." Amelia explained. Remus was in shock.

"What! He didn't have a trial?" He gasped.

"No he did not." Amelia sighed. Rubbing a hand through her dark hair, she took another sip of tea,

"When is his trial?" Remus asked.

"Next week. Dumbledore is being held under a full Wizegmot council tomorrow and we are giving those that didn't get a trial one at the beginning of next week. We still need to reopen certain investigations to see how many people were thrown into Azkaban under martial law just to get them out of the way and who was really guilty." Remus swallowed thickly and slumped in his chair. The possibility that Sirius was innocent set his heart to pumping erratically.

"Harry?" Remus whispered out.

"Like I said, we are doing everything we can, come by again next week and I will have new information for you. But he is under heavy enchantment where ever he is for him to not show up on our tracking systems. The only thing we have managed to find is that the child is still alive and that will have to be enough for now. I have your floo address in case we find him sooner." Madam Bones said briskly in a clear dismissal. Lupin stood and bowed to her in respect.

"Thank you, Madam Bones. For everything. If you need help…"

"I'll know where to find you." Amelia finished with a smile as the amber eyed man turned and left from her office. Sighing the head Auror pulled the file towards her. She would find the child savior no matter how long it took.


	10. Chapter 10

A/N Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor do I own Supernatural. I am just a die hard fan:) Happy reading!

A/N Sorry about taking so long to post. But I have been working like crazy and have no internet connection at my house. Also school started this week and I am taking 18 credit hours so I don't have a lot of free time. Between, photo, art and video projects and work I don't have a lot of free time...unfortunately. Add that I have to find time to go somewhere with wifi to get internet and you see my dilemma:( Hopefully it won't take me so long to post again. I am gonna try to have a weekly update schedule...with updates that go in this order...

-Bond of the Soul

-Oceans Deep

-and then Faith

the reason for this is Faith is the story I am most passionate about. But if I don't force myself to write the other stories first they will get put on the back burner. I don't want that to happen because I am passionate about them too. So yeah. Thank you all for waiting and sticking with me. Hopefully I will have some more updates by the end of this coming week.

A/N End.

Please check out my other stories! Read, Review and fan/favorite:) Thank you!

Please Review! I read all of them, thank you to everyone who has already:) Please fan and follow!

**_Enochian thought_**

**_"Enochian speech"_**

_Thought_

**Beast tongue**

**Dean Winchester is born January 24 1979**

**Harry Potter is born July 31st 1980**

**Sam Winchester is born May 2nd 1983**

**Chuck Shurley is born July 30th 1980 (This is for the sake of the story as it was never detailed how old he was in cannon)**

**November 2nd 1983 Mary Winchester dies**

Chapter 9

**_Out of the mouth of babes and sucklings hast thou ordained strength because of thine enemies, that thou mightest still the enemy and the avenger. When I consider thy heavens, the work of thy fingers, the moon and the stars, which thou hast ordained…_**

**_~Psalm 8: 2-3~_**

**London **

**Ray and Martha Strider Residence**

The kitchen was quaint. A large window spread out on one wall that overlooked a table that held six chairs. Five of them filled. Light trickled and danced down through the windows to alight upon a gruff face. The man, for he was a man, was disgruntled in his appearance. Dark circles cast shadows upon his eyes in the morning light as he sipped at a coffee. Grimacing in distaste as he was of the firm opinion that he needed something stronger the longer he flicked his dark eyes upon a curious newspaper with moving pictures. Unease had long since settled into his bones since he stepped foot into this backwards country and saw the damn brits driving on the wrong side of the road.

He lost count on how many times he almost crashed into a vehicle, add the stress of hunting a certain demon and then add a red eyed bastard on top of that and Bobby Singer was in need of something a lot stronger to drink. However, given his present company he settled for the black sludge Strider called coffee. Pursing his lips he glanced at a plump little woman by the stove that he had been introduced to a couple of days previous, Martha Strider, Ray Strider's squib of a wife.

She was a tiny thing, standing at just about five feet, with golden ringlets that cascaded over her plump shoulders and down her back. The woman had beautiful molten amber eyes that shown with an innate kindness that reminded Bobby of his late wife. Though Martha was a bit on the round side, it did nothing to distract from her beauty, and had Bobby been passing her in the street he would have never guessed that magic ran through her lovely veins.

Magic. How he had loathed that word. For many years that word had been synonymous with demons. Now according to the texts and a few incognito visits through London's magical sector via Madam Strider, Bobby was forced to acknowledge that these magicals were just like everyday humans, only with something extra and a little less common sense with a disposition that tended to fall on the lazy side.

Not only that, Bobby had been going through their newspaper and any articles and books on their history that he could get his hands on, only to find that wizards tended to have a sheep mentality as a whole. Perhaps that made them dangerous, perhaps this reinforced that they were only human, prone to mistakes. But Bobby had found the wizarding population tended to follow whoever was in power almost blindly and their government suppressed many intelligent creatures and magics out of either fear or because the government wanted the populace to become agreeable to a certain way of thinking.

It disgusted him to the core. What really pissed him off even more was this Dumbledore person. Someone who was portrayed to be this all powerful leader of light and goodness. A man who would say that everyone should be equal, be they non mangicals, "muggleborn" or creatures and then go and vote for things to suppress their rights. The old fart was a two faced bastard that Bobby wouldn't mind putting a bullet between the bastards twinkling blue eyes.

He was a man that was extremely powerful, not only in magic supposedly but politically as well. The proof was right in front of him. The bastard was responsible for putting the little miracle boy at that house where he was abused. From the looks of things it was with the intention of the boy being broken, for what purpose Bobby had yet to determine. But he had done his research and that blasted old man new the boy's parents and their families. It is extremely unlikely that he didn't know how the Dursley family would react to raising the boy.

Yet, the man had managed to talk himself out of being held responsible for the boy's disappearance, treatment and his most likely death. All he got was a "slap on the wrist" so to speak. This angered Bobby to no end. The child that he now knew was named Harry Potter, a supposed hero of their world, was missing and presumed dead. And all the man responsible for it was getting was a small reprimand not to do it again.

Then the retarded wizarding populace put him back in charge of their children! How could these people be so stupid?! Bobby let out an irritated sigh as he threw the newspaper down on the table in disgust. Startling his companions. Rufus who sat across from him sent him an understanding look as Bobby stood to stretch. After a satisfying crack, he grabbed his empty mug to take it to the sink, only to be intercepted by Strider's wife. She took the cup gently and ushered him back to his seat setting a plate of warm rolls and jam in the center of the table. Putting a plate before each of the men and then placing one at a seat for herself.

"That poor child, what he must have gone through…" Martha shook her head as she took a seat next to her husband who was nursing a cup of tea silently. His blue eyes gazing at her. Gently he grabbed her hand to give it a reassuring squeeze. A lump formed in Bobby's throat and he had to look away for a moment. Bobby's eyes caught Bandello's amber across from him. The man was regarding Bobby in intense scrutiny. Bobby resisted the urge to fidget. Bandello pursed his lips and then opened his mouth to speak.

"That red eyed demon, he said the three of you were from Interpol…you're not are you?" He asked, his gaze solemn. Jim, who was sat next to him made a sound of alarm in the back of his throat. Bandello's eyes flicked to him briefly before settling on Bobby. Rufus sighed through his nose and nodded at him before Bobby could form any words.

"We are hunters." He said. Martha and Ray Strider stiffened. Their eyes shooting to bounce between Bobby and Rufus and back. Ray carefully maneuvering himself to place himself in front of his wife. Bobby frowned at him and shook his head.

"Oh come off it, ya idjit. It's not like we're gonna shoot ya so full a rock salt you start crappin' margaritas…Pull your head outta your ass, if we were gonna shoot ya we woulda done it already." Bobby exclaimed. Bandello's eyebrows climbed further and further into his hair line the longer Bobby spoke.

"What type of hunter exactly?" Bandello questioned. Jim answered him quietly.

"We hunt the supernatural. Everything you've ever believed to go bump in the night, we hunt it. A thankless job, but if we don't do it, this world would be a crappier place." Jim said solemnly.

"And I suppose you're not really a priest." Strider stated.

"No, I am. I just hunt in my free time." Jim stated. Bandello looked pointedly at Bobby.

"Are your names really Frank Castle, Rupert Studdard and Jim Murphy?" Bandello asked.

Bobby had the grace to look sheepish. Jim let out a breathless chuckle.

"Yes, my name is Pastor Jim Murphy. But my companions however…" Jim trailed off.

"Bobby Singer." Bobby sighed.

"Rufus Turner." Rufus said after a moment.

There was an awkward silence as everyone tried to digest this new information. Bandello was having an inner struggle. Anger and acceptance were warring on his face. The three hunters sat in the chairs nibbling on the warm rolls as they waited for what the man would do. Finally he sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"In light of the events that transpired at the station and the fact that you three are way more experienced in the supernatural…" Bandello looked like he had swallowed something sour at this. "I will ignore this obvious breach in the law. But make no mistake, I will not allow you to go impersonating law enforcement in my city again. Got it. I have a duty to uphold the law and this will be my only exception." Bandello opened his eyes to pierce the hunters with a serious look and the hunters found themselves nodding in agreement. Though Bobby let out a quiet stream of profanities that Bandello chose to ignore.

Martha chose that moment to speak up.

"What will you do now that the trail has gone cold and the poor child has been pronounced dead?" She asked.

"The child isn't…" Rufus bit out. But Martha plowed right on over him.

"The ministry can no longer track his life energy. The only way that is known for this to happen is the child has come of age of magical maturity or is dead. The only way for a child that age to trick that spell would be if young Mr. Potter was ridiculously over powered. Even with what happened in Privet Drive, the likely hood of that being the case…well it isn't very likely.

If the child is alive, however, the only spell they have hope of finding him is the spell of Hogwarts founders. It is a spell that writes out the names of the letters of who will be attending Hogwarts that year. In that case it will be three years before anyone will have the capability to find the child at all. So like I asked…What will you do?" She finished. Rufus made a sound of protest in his throat as Bobby shook his head. His eyes shut it pain. Jim had begun to pray silently for the child's soul under his breath. Bobby had only one word to say that could accurately describe what he was feeling at the time. Though in hindsight it didn't say much at all. He clenched his teeth and exhaled.

"Balls."


End file.
